


The Seven Lives of Koutsu Masumi and Hiiragi Yuzu

by tieria



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! ARC-V
Genre: Alternate Universe - Guardian Angels, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, F/F, Sirens, lustershipping week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-13
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-06 11:33:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 30,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5415263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tieria/pseuds/tieria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which there are angels and wildflowers, oceans and bridges and stolen jewels, familiar melodies and feelings that span the centuries- and of course, in which girls fall in love over card games.<br/>:::<br/>“I really mean it, Yuzu. I feel like I’ve known you for centuries. Like I’ve known you in every life I’ve lived.”<br/>Yuzu hums, soft and content. “I'm curious," she says, "What kind of lives were those?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Lustershipping week! I'm right in the middle of finals so this is written in my simple draft style, meaning any and all mistakes are mine.

_They say that cats have nine lives_

_and so must humans too,_

_for though i've loved you eons_

_the years i've known you are so few_

* * *

 

“I don’t know what I would have done,” Masumi blurts out suddenly one evening as Yuzu sets the groceries down on the kitchen table. Yuzu sends her a curious glance, untangling her arms from the mass of plastic bags and hanging her umbrella over the back of a chair.

“If you hadn’t come back,” Masumi elaborates, “I don’t know what I would have done.”

Yuzu grabs the bags of frozen peas and shoves them in the freezer, rolling her eyes. “Masumi, I just went to the grocery store. I don’t think my life was in danger.”

Masumi glares, but there’s no real bite behind it, not after all these years of soft glances between them. “Not _now_ , Yuzu. I mean before. When we were kids.”

Yuzu picks up the jug of milk, then sets it back down on the table. “You mean the war.”

They’ve had this conversation before, Yuzu knows. Not in so many words, but in the quiet things they said to each other when the other gets hurt, in the spaces in between their greetings of _“I missed you”_ and their farewells of “ _be safe”_.

Masumi nods, slow and almost hesitant. “It’s just… Ugh, this is stupid,” she says, then turns into the adjoining room of their apartments. Yuzu follows, groceries forgotten.

In the moment it takes Yuzu to follow her into the bedroom, Masumi had already settled down at the piano bench. It’s a small little thing, left over from the past occupants, but Yuzu knows how to play a bit and hasn’t had the heart to get rid of it, even if it does take up too much space.

Yuzu slides onto the bench next to Masumi, angles her body towards her. “I’m sure it’s not stupid, Masumi. You can tell me. I promise I won’t laugh at you.”

Masumi pushes a strand of hair back behind her ear. Her other hand clenches in her lap, and Yuzu reaches out and clasps it between her own. “I promise,” she says, and Masumi looks at her, takes a long breath. Her other hand comes to rest on top of Yuzu’s.

“I feel like I’ve loved you forever, Yuzu,” Masumi says, averting her eyes, and Yuzu can’t help the smile that pulls at her lips.

Rubbing soothing circles over Masumi’s knuckles, she replies, “That’s not stupid. It’s really sweet, actually.”

Masumi flushes. “I’m not trying to be romantic,” she says, and Yuzu presses their sides together, rests her head on Masumi’s shoulder.

“Sure you’re not.”

 “I’m not,” Masumi protests, then drops her head gently on top of Yuzu’s. “I really mean it, Yuzu. I feel like I’ve known you for centuries. Like I’ve known you in every life I’ve lived.”

Yuzu hums, soft and content. “What kind of lives were those?”

Masumi pulls her head away to watch Yuzu with a strong, level gaze. Yuzu sits up, returns it. “I’m curious,” she elaborates, “because I have dreams sometimes. About a person I’ve never been, about places I’ve never seen… And you’re there too.”

For a moment, Masumi hesitates, then shakes her head. “I’m not sure. I just know that I’ve always known you. That I always… Fell in love with you.”

Yuzu pulls a hand away to push gently at Masumi’s shoulder. “You are! You are being romantic!”

Masumi flushes again- or perhaps she’d never stopped, and Yuzu’s smile softens again. “But that’s how my dreams are too, you know. You’re always there.”

With a strained noise, Masumi ducks her head into Yuzu’s shoulder, and Yuzu laughs- even after all these years and all they’ve changed, they’re still entirely awful at romance in the best possible way. “Let’s see… I remember this dream. Once upon a time, there was a beautiful angel that descended to the human realm…”


	2. With all of Your Grace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An angel of war descends reluctantly from the heavens to become guardian for a young woman. She doesn't intend to work particularly hard or to get particularly attached- watching over the human from a distance, after all, is the only thing that's required. Needless to say, nothing goes quite as planned.

_I met you first in Florence_

_your eyes sparking wide with youth-_

_it was your smile I remembered_

_as I fell toward our new truth_

* * *

 

Masumi does not descend to the human realm. She refuses on the principle of it- she is an angel of war, her blade radiating heavenly light, her posture the very model of heavenly righteousness. Nothing that the earthly realm can offer, she scoffs, could possibly match the luster of the heavens.

She says as much to the archangel that watches over her one day, when he pesters her again about taking on a charge. He just sighs, begins to recite what he’s recited to Masumi every time she’s refused, stretching back for centuries. “Masumi… Every angel must take on a charge at least once a millennia. Today marks exactly nine hundred years since your creation. You _must_ descend to earth for guard duty.”

Masumi sighs. “And I will tell you exactly what I have told you for the past nine hundred years, Yuuya. I refuse.”

Yuuya sends her a pained look. His three sets of wings move behind him- for all that Yuuya is an archangel dating back to the era near the dawn of time, he’s still as easy to read as a newly-formed angel. “Come on, Masumi, please? You haven’t even given it a chance. Yuuto tells me that you’ve only been to the scrying portals once, and only because it was mandatory. How do you know you won’t enjoy it?”

With a blank face, Masumi replies, “There is dirt. Everywhere.”

A telltale ruffling of feathers tells her that Yuuya doesn’t seem to approve of her aesthetic displeasure. Masumi continues on, undeterred. “And the mortal realm is filled with humans. Humans, who sin and who know not what is best for them. Humans, who stray from the path even when it is placed in front of their eyes.”

“Be careful,” Yuuya chides, “That’s the brilliance of humans, and you know it, Masumi.”

“Yes, yes,” Masumi replies, brushing off Yuuya’s warning. She turns away from the archangel and spreads her wings, jumping off of one of the golden stone platforms to glide gently down into the iridescent mist that serves as the sky.

_‘Take me to the gates,’_ she thinks, and the pillars of light and pearled white stone appear before her. Hokuto and Yaiba are waiting, standing still as still as if they were carved out of marble.

“You’re late!” Yaiba yells up at her, and a few of the newly-arrived souls startle. Masumi folds her wings and lands gently on the platform.

“Sorry. I was held up. Yuuya again,” she says, and Hokuto and Yaiba exchange a quick glance.

“You know,” Yaiba says, “You should just get it over with, right? A hundred years are going to go in the blink of an eye, and then you’ll have to do it anyway. I mean, humans only live to be what, forty? Maybe if you’re lucky you’ll get some kid who dies young, right?”

Masumi turns to Hokuto, silently asking him to back her up. Hokuto just shrugs. “My charge, if I may remind you, was a brilliant doctor who saved half his tribe from a disease that wiped out half the population of the territory,” Hokuto said, as if he had somehow been responsible for it.

“You both are no help,” she says.

They shrug, then turn back to their duties, watching over the gates for any sign of undue influence and, as usual, finding none.

:::

As promised, a hundred years in the human realm go by before Masumi can even register their passing in full, and Yuuya is calling her to his cloud.

Masumi goes with the utmost reluctance, Hokuto and Yaiba yelling promises that it wouldn’t be as bad as she thought at her receding back.

As always, Masumi can’t understand Yuuya’s bit of heaven. It’s a room that shines with all the brilliance of an archangel’s domain, marred with seemingly random objects from the mortal realm- a shoddy desk here, a broken doll there- Masumi shakes her head and tries to ignore the blatantly misplaced trinkets.

Yuuya turns to greet her with a smile on his face, unrolling the heavenly scroll he was fiddling with. “Ah, Masumi! You’re here, good. I have the details of your charge.”

Masumi holds out a hand to take the scroll, but Yuuya hesitates. Masumi inclines her head in silent question.

“Honestly…” Yuuya starts, his wings shifting in the space behind him again, “This charge is… special. She was under my care for a time, but I’m a little afraid that… Well… You’ll see, I guess.”

With that, he drops the scroll gently into Masumi’s hand. It vanishes into her palm with a shimmer of gold sparks.

“Good luck,” Yuuya says to her as she turns to depart, to (she shudders) _descend._ She spares a single moment to wonder why Yuuya would stop to offer her luck, of all things, and then she is circling down gently, the gentle divine wind under her wings turning to mortal wind, harsh and abrasive.

The instincts given to her by the scroll lead her down into the center of the tiny little village, more a collection of shacks masquerading as houses and tiny farm plots than a real, functioning town.

The streets are awful excuses for roads, just lines of dirt and mud crisscrossing the space between the houses. Masumi floats over them on the principle of it. The shacks are shoddily made constructions of brick and mud, and Masumi wonders how anyone could stand to live in such conditions.

Masumi floats gently over to the smallest one, vines crawling up its sides. She knows instinctively that her charge is here. If she closes her eyes, she can sense a faint, wavering outline like a beacon cutting though the darkness. It beckons her closer, and, if she had been a being created capable of reluctance, she is sure that would be the emotion she would be feeling.

But angels of war are not created for emotion, and so she goes without protest.

She phases through the rickety wooden door, barely hanging on its makeshift hinges. The interior of the room, she finds, is equally unimpressive. The floor has no stone, no tile- it’s just a patch of dirt with a blanket laid over the bulk of it, as if that is to be adequate covering. The sole pieces of furniture are a misshapen table and two wooden chairs that seem to Masumi better off left for scrap.

But something burns brilliant to her in the room, and it’s not the small fire in a pit at the far end of the room- it’s the young woman sitting in front of it, stirring a pot of what Masumi assumes to be soup.

Her soul shines with a brightness so akin to that of heaven’s that for a moment Masumi is blinded by it, can’t see the physical form of the young woman in front of her- and then the young woman speaks, and the moment is shattered.

“Ah, you’re here! Just in time. The soup is finally ready.” Masumi looks around the room- there’s no one there.

The young woman ladles some soup into one bowl, then two, then sets wooden spoons across the tops of both. She picks them up delicately, then turns in Masumi’s direction, holds out one of the bowls. “Well,” she says, “Go on. It’s been a while since I had someone around to taste one of my soups. No one wants hot food in the summer.”

Masumi blinks. “You…” she starts slowly, “Can see me?”

The young woman sighs. “Yes, I can. You’re an angel, after all, aren’t you?”

While Masumi is taking a moment to process that, the young woman holds out the bowl again. “Come on now, before it gets cold and all the vegetables settle. Try it, try it.”

Masumi desperately wants to decline. In the back of her mind, she can hear Yaiba yelling down at her not to be rude. Whether he’s actually watching her or he’s (somewhat alarmingly) become her voice of reason, Masumi doesn’t know, but she reaches out to grab the bowl regardless.

The young woman smiles at her, then settles down at her table with her own bowl, watching Masumi the whole time with bright blue eyes. Masumi picks up the spoon and stirs the soup with it, biding her time- but the young woman does not look away, and Masumi takes a small sip.

She doesn’t know what it’s supposed to taste like. The nectars of heaven are always sweet, and the mana light and airy on her tongue. This is none of those.

Catching sight of her lack of reaction, the young woman sips some of hers. “Hmm, you’re right. Something’s a little off. Oh well. I would’ve added more salt, but we need as much as possible for storage this year.”

The young woman pushes her soup away. “What’s your name, angel?”

“Masumi.”

The young woman taps her fingers on the table. “ _Masumi_. What a pretty name. My name is Yuzu. It’s nice to meet you, Masumi.”

“It is nice to meet you as well,” Masumi replies. (But she doesn’t mean it- not quite yet.)

:::

Summer, Masumi soon finds, is a time of exhaustion from planting and tending to crops, of long days spent outdoors in the sticky heat. It’s also, Yuzu tells her, the time of sweet drinks and dips in the nearby river, where the water is cool and her body feels light. Masumi, of course, feels none of that. But she sees Yuzu feel each in turn, and feels that she understands the concepts enough to get by.

Yuzu continues to insist that Masumi sample her food- though she has, Masumi notices with relief, reduced the portions to something much more manageable. Masumi is still, however, unsure of what it should actually taste like. Yuzu watches her reactions carefully each time, then makes some comment or another about how Masumi is right. She’d added too much water, she hadn’t put in enough herbs- it means nothing to Masumi, but Yuzu seems to gain something from it, and so Masumi supposes that she cannot complain.

In the heavens, time flows like water around Masumi’s feet, fluid and always in motion. But in this small town in a corner of the earth, the days pass slowly, like the molasses that drips from Yuzu’s spoon. Hours are spent doing the most mundane of tasks- bringing water from the stream up to the village. Weeding the fields. Chopping vegetables for their daily meals. Masumi watches all of this and absently wonders if angels can die of boredom.

And then, as the long days of summer turn towards the light chill of early autumn, the monotony is broken.

The sleepy little town comes suddenly and vibrantly alive. Masumi follows Yuzu out of the house and takes a moment to take in the sudden transformation. The ramshackle brown buildings are decorated in greens and golds and deep, vibrant reds, and makeshift shrines line the streets. Masumi floats in close to those, staring at tiny gold idols and wooden carved figures with passing interest.

“They’re for the harvest festival tonight,” Yuzu says as she walks down the street, basket in hand, “Where we celebrate another year of good harvests and pray for a mild and calm winter.”

Masumi pokes gently at one of the idols, curious. It looks like a sun goddess, perhaps, surrounded by crudely carved depictions of crops and swine. There’s nothing particularly holy or blessed about it, but Masumi supposed that the deity in question will appreciate the effort nonetheless.

Yuzu, meanwhile, has stopped at a small shack near the end of the road, and the door swings open after just one knock.

“Yuzu!” the woman says with obvious familiarity, and Masumi is abruptly forced to admit that she hasn’t paid a moment’s attention to anyone else in the village. “Come in, come in!”

Though the woman shuffles to let Yuzu in, Yuzu just shakes her head and holds out the basket. “I’m afraid I can’t stay, Miss Sakaki, but please, take these. It’s the last of the fruit from my harvest this year. I want the village children to have it.”

Sakaki shakes her head, but reaches out to take the basket anyway. “You’re too kind, Yuzu. I wish I had a child like you.”

Yuzu gives her a gentle smile, and they continue to make small talk for a while, standing out in the cool breeze, but Masumi’s attention has already started to wander. She spreads her wings wide and takes to the sky, drawing her sword as she hits the clouds. Away from human eye, she lets heavenly power swell up within her and slashes, practicing the skills she had spent her first millennia honing.

Time passes faster away from the monotony of human existence, and Masumi finds that she can see the sun start to set on the far horizon by the time that Yuzu’s soul starts to flare, a signal Masumi knows can only be meant for her. With a long breath, Masumi sheaths the sword and glides slowly back down to the earth.

Yuzu waves to her from the main path. The entire population of the town- barely twenty people, Masumi counts- is standing outside, staring up at the sky. Some have their hands clasped in prayer. The children point, babbling excitedly and tugging on their parents’ sleeves.

“Did you do this?” Yuzu asks as Masumi floats at a steady level at her side. Yuzu too points towards the sky, and Masumi finally inclines her head to look- peeking from behind the clouds is a rainbow, stretching through the sky like gouges in the earth, no visible end.

For a moment, Masumi studies the location- that could have been her training ground, she supposes, and nods.

“Thank you,” Yuzu says, and when Masumi looks back down at her, she’s smiling bright and brilliant. It strikes Masumi again just how similarly that Yuzu’s soul burns to the light of the heavens. A feeling swells, but without any frame of reference for it, Masumi tucks it away to be disregarded, perhaps thought about later.

:::

The festival begins immediately, and Yuzu insists that Masumi keeps close. The village gathers in the center of the main road, where everyone drags tables and chairs that look close to collapse out. Vibrant spreads of vegetables and cooked dishes are set on every table, and everyone brings a bowl with them.

Men chop slices of bread and meat while women ladle out soup and water from heavy pots, and they speak and laugh and dine without concern until the sun sets completely and stars take over the sky.

The tables and chairs are moved off to the side as group of villagers drag out something large and unwieldy to the center. Masumi counts falling stars all the while, wondering if any of them are descending angels.

“Masumi,” Yuzu says, and her attention is back on the mortal plane once again. Yuzu has a torch in hand, blazing with flame. It brushes close to her body, but Masumi feels nothing, even as Yuzu abruptly pulls it away with an apology.

But whatever Yuzu planned to say, she does not. One of the other villagers calls out to her, and Yuzu moves to the center of the road, standing next to the strange effigy with scrap wood at its base.

A long moment of silence, then Yuzu takes a breath. The first strains of melody break the lingering silence, Yuzu’s voice high and clear in the cool night air. It is an old language- an ancient language, even, one that is older than even Masumi herself. She contents herself to listen to the melody without understanding the words- but even without them, Masumi imagines that it’s a sad song by the way Yuzu’s voice trembles with emotion.

The other villagers join in, their voices strong and determined. Some have tears pricking in the corner of their eyes. And how strange humans are, Masumi thinks, for letting their emotions be swayed by nothing but a melody.

The song swells with the addition of the new voices, and Yuzu lets the torch fall from her hand. Smoke rises from the base of the effigy, then catches into a blaze, licking at the feet of the vaguely-human character.

As the song ends, the villagers cheer, throwing up their hands. One of the men starts to distribute something some sort of bun. Yuzu takes hers and splits it down the center, hands half to Masumi when the attention of the rest of the villagers is away from her. “It’s for good luck in the coming winter,” Yuzu explains, “so eat it whole and make a wish.”

Yuzu stuffs the bun into her mouth and closes her eyes, and Mazumi supposes that she’s making her wish, though she knows not what for what. Masumi does the same. The texture of the bun is strange, soft and oddly heavy on her tongue, and all she can taste is wheat, particles heavy and unappetizing. Still, she closes her eyes and wishes for winter to pass faster than the summer had.

In the back of her mind, she can hear Hokuto’s laughter echo- this, she is sure, is Hokuto watching her, chiding her for her foolish wish. By the time that she opens her eyes again, Yuzu is already off dancing with the rest of the villagers. Her laugher is much closer, and much easier to hear.

Masumi closes her eyes again and wishes for home once more.

:::

The winter passes in a dull monotony, the kind that has Yuzu shivering under layers of blankets and furs while Masumi hovers over the roof and circles the village absently, trying to find any way to spend the time. She counts the snowflakes as they fall, watches the starts at night and traces the constellations from below, rather than above, and practices with her sword when the skies are sufficiently cloudy-

And then spring bursts into vibrant bloom, and incessant white is replaced with verdant greens and a selection of white wildflowers that dapple the nearby hills.

Yuzu heads out into the bare brown patches that will become the gardens outside her home, and Masumi hovers around curiously, watching as Yuzu picks rocks out of the soil and digs precise rows into the soil with her trowel.

“Come on,” Yuzu says, holding the trowel out to her, “Try it. They say planting things is good for the earth, you know.”

Masumi stares at the trowel, unimpressed. Yuzu sighs, then gathers up seeds from a splintered wooden box and holds a palm full of them out to Masumi. Yuzu doesn’t budge this time, and Masumi takes them reluctantly.

Digging a small hole into the earth, Yuzu says, “Drop a few seeds into every hole I make, okay? This year we’re planting carrots, so I can trade Miss Sakaki for her potatoes.”

Masumi drops a few seeds into the hole, and Yuzu starts on digging the next one, and they work in a companionable kind of silence, broken only when Yuzu hums bits and pieces of melodies unfamiliar to Masumi.

“You like to sing,” Masumi says, her intonation flat. Yuzu turns to look up at her with unabashed excitement. Masumi watches curiously- she hadn’t thought it a particularly exciting question.

“Well, other people seem to enjoy when I do. I like music. If I’d been born a rich woman, then maybe I’d have gone to school. Then I could write my own songs. Learned to play the violin, or the piano,” she says, then, “Do you like music too? I suppose what they have in the heavens must be beautiful.”

Masumi thinks on it. The battle hymns had been nice, the marches sublime, but she’s not particularly attached, not enough to miss them. With a shake of her head, she replies, “No. I think I much prefer the gardens.”

“Oh?” Yuzu digs another shallow hole, then stops to wipe sweat from her forehead. She streaks dirt at her hairline as a result, and Masumi shudders, then obligingly drops three seeds into the hole. “What kind of gardens were they? None of the other angels ever mentioned that there were gardens.”

The gardens of heaven are vast and infinite, and every species, stretching back and forwards forever in time are represented there. One step and it is the new growth of spring, the next it is the regal golds and reds of autumn, with none of the hassle of this planting or passing of time.

“More expansive than you could ever imagine,” Masumi says, and though Yuzu keeps trying to press her for more information, Masumi has no more to give- the simply stares up past the sky and wonders when she’ll finally be allowed to return home.

:::

The garden they planted together bursts into sudden green, and Yuzu pulls up the first of the carrots a few weeks into the spring. “Potatoes can’t be planted yet,” she says, leaning in close at a conspiratorial whisper, “So these are all for us.”

Masumi doesn’t react. Yuzu seems undeterred and continues to talk. “You know, I heard that some of the kids found a bee’s nest and knocked it down. I was thinking of asking Miss Sakaki for some honey. I think you’d like it.”

She watches Masumi as if she’s waiting for an answer. Masumi sighs, then gives one. “Perhaps.”

“Then I’ll go ask for some!” Yuzu says. She smiles so softly to herself, as if she’s unaware she’s doing it, and Masumi doesn’t have the heart to tell her that she wouldn’t be able to taste the difference between honeyed carrots and the ones she’d just pulled from the ground.

(Yuzu makes them, and Masumi smiles and tells her they’re delicious on an impulse. Yuzu’s reaction is so genuinely pleased that Masumi is taken aback for a moment, unsure how to name the feeling rising in her chest. In the end, she decides to forget about it entirely.)

:::

For the first time, Masumi watches as summer settles in over the human realm. She can feel the change from the soft winds of spring to the hot, wet winds of summer as they drag along her feathers when she flies.

The heat is utterly unbearable this year, Yuzu tells her, fanning herself with a hand, and Masumi adjusts her wings, thinking that she understands much better this time around.

:::

Another harvest festival comes and goes, and then another and another. Masumi wishes to return to the heavens every year. She often contemplates creating a rainbow again, but every year decides against it, lest the humans here start to think her their goddess- she is an angel with pride, but not with so much arrogance as to take a god’s place.

Every year they plant the gardens together, and every year they plant more and more until Yuzu’s gardens are vibrant and full of life. “I’ve never eaten this well,” Yuzu mentions off-hand one day, and Masumi vows to plant even more when the next of the crops are harvested.

The winter of the fourth year settles in heard and heavy, and it snows so much one evening that Yuzu wakes up the next morning only to find that she can’t open the door of her house, the snow having piled up against it. Masumi offers to clear it away, but Yuzu just shakes her head and shivers, drawing her blankets closer around her.

“No,” she says, her voice oddly hoarse, “I think I’m all right for today.”

Yuzu spends most of the day in uneasy sleep. Masumi flutters around, unsure of what to do. She doesn’t wake at the dawn of the next day, and Masumi’s fluttering grows agitated, floating back and forth between the corners of the small house.

Masumi has never seen this before, has no model of the human experience to draw on without the scrying pools of the heavens- Masumi stops, hovering over Yuzu. Hokuto’s words come flooding back to her suddenly and with crystal clarity. “ _My charge, if I may remind you, was a brilliant doctor who saved half his tribe from a disease that wiped out half the population of the territory.”_

Illness. This was illness. And if Yuzu had yet to wake up, then…

Masumi floated lower, let her knees hit the ground and her hand ghost lightly over Yuzu’s shoulder. "Yuzu. Yuzu, wake up.”

Yuzu groans, but doesn’t open her eyes, doesn’t make any indication that she had heard. Masumi grabs her shoulder now, lets the fever-heat of Yuzu’s body warm her hand in a way she hadn’t noticed before. “Wake up, Yuzu. You have to wake up, I have to ask Hokuto what to do-“

With a long breath, Yuzu wakes, stares up at Masumi with glassy eyes. “It’s okay,” she says, her voice weak, “I just… need something warm to eat.”

Yuzu curls back into herself as Masumi moves to get a pot of water and bones over the fire. She’s seen Yuzu do this a hundred times. She cuts the remaining vegetables in neat slices and drops them gently into the pot. She lets it simmer, stirs it with the wooden spoon threatening to splinter.

She tries a bit, blowing on the spoon and tasting it lightly, but she has no idea if it’s presentable to the human palate. Her confusion must show on her face, because Yuzu shifts closer, leans to look in the pot.

“What did you put in it?” Yuzu asks, her voice catching halfway and sending her into a fit of coughing.

Masumi thinks- “Carrots. Peas. Some of the salt and the broth made from the last of the bones.”

Yuzu takes an unsteady breath. “Then it should taste like home. Like comfort. Like curling up next to the fire after a long day outside. Like hearing the winter wind howl around you from the inside of the house. Like-“ she coughs, has to catch her breath afterwards.

But Masumi understands. She understands now in a way that Yuzu’s talk of ingredients hadn’t made sense to her before- it’s too watery, and she apologizes to Yuzu as she hands her a bowl.

Inexplicably to Masumi, Yuzu just smiles one of her brilliant smiles, the ones that bring out the radiance of her soul overflowing from her veins. She doesn’t complain about Masumi’s less than impressive cooking once, not the whole week they’re trapped in the shack by the blizzard.

:::

Miss Sakaki comes knocking on their door the evening of the eighth day, recruiting the village children to help shovel the snow away from their doors.

Still huddled on her straw mattress, too weak to be too active, Yuzu thanks her when she drops off a pot of soup. Yoko’s eyes fill with sudden worry as she presses a hand to Yuzu’s forehead. She shakes her head. “You must have had an angel watching over you, Yuzu.”

Yuzu laughs so hard it sends her into a coughing fit, and Masumi flutters over to her side, concerned. “You,” Yuzu says, “have no idea how lucky I am to have a guardian angel, Miss Sakaki. She saved my life.”

Masumi feels a swell of pride at this, though the irony is strong. An angel of war, saving a life- but the softness of pride overwhelms the hard edges of irony, and so that is the emotion that Masumi lets linger.

:::

The years pass like a river around her feet after that. Days blur together until the long days of summer morph into one long memory, until the harvest festival of one year transitions seamlessly into the next.

It startles Masumi the first year that she wishes to return to the heavens and finds that the words ring hollow in her mind. It’s the first year she asks Yuzu what she wishes for, and Yuzu shakes her head, presses a finger to her lips.

“It’s a secret,” she says, “If you tell another soul, your wish will never come true. We tell every child that if you wish with sincerity and keep the secret, your wish will always be granted. Maybe not in the way you want it to, but it’ll definitely come true.”

Masumi thinks on that as the years tumble into a decade, trying to think of a wish that she’d be satisfied with. She doesn’t know if this goddess’ powers would extend to angels, but Masumi, encouraged by Yuzu, thinks that there’s no harm in the attempt.

:::

One decade tumbles into two, and Masumi can see the way Yuzu tries to hide her body weakening from a lifetime of eating poorly, from a lifetime of hard work. The village children, now children no longer, come around to plant Yuzu’s fields, save the one that Masumi tends to herself.

The summer comes and goes, and the harvest festival arrives again. Yuzu no longer sings- one of the children’s generation has long since taken over that role- but Yuzu still smiles, still sings along with the rest of the village. Masumi joins in at the chorus, the ancient words flowing naturally from her now.

They split a bun afterwards. Masumi wishes with everything that she has, with an intensity that startles even her. Some sort of emotion must show on her face when she opens her eyes, because Yuzu is staring at her, curious. “What did you wish for?”

Masumi smiles, laughs. “You said I can’t tell you, Yuzu.”

For a moment, Yuzu seems startled, then her expression softens, back into something easy and fond. “I did, didn’t I?”

:::

The winter is harsh. The wind is bitter and the snow piles up, threatening in on the weakening walls of the shack, and Yuzu starts to cough again. Masumi makes soup from bones and vegetables that taste like home and wraps Yuzu up in all the blankets she can find- and when Yuzu continues to shiver, wraps her up in her wings, too.

She watches over her in her sleep, makes sure Yuzu’s breathing stays clear. She flies out only to break firewood off from the trees, keeps the fire going through the day and the night-

It’s not enough.

“In my next life,” Yuzu says, and Masumi sends her a pleading glance. Yuzu shakes her head, takes a breath that’s more a gasp than anything else. “It’s selfish, but… In my next life, I want to be rich. I want to go to parties and always have enough food and learn to play the piano…”

Yuzu’s eyes slip closed. Masumi wonders what kind of world she’s envisioning. “I want to do something good. I want to perform for people, maybe. To make them happy. I want…”

“I want… Well, I want a lot of things. Watch over me in the next life too, Masumi,” Yuzu says. Masumi can’t think of a reply that captures everything that she wants to convey, so she remains silent as Yuzu drifts off into sleep.

She doesn’t wake up.

Masumi flits about the house for hours. Heaven is a beacon pulling her back, but she resists, agitated, unsure of what to do. She can’t leave Yuzu here, alone in the snow- of that she knows. The snow is piled higher than the first time Yuzu had gotten sick, and Masumi refuses to leave her to rot.

So she ignores heaven and gathers Yuzu up in her arms, the light of her soul already beginning to fade. There is a small woods outside of the town a ways, where wildflowers bloom in a clearing every spring. It’s a place Yuzu hadn’t known about, but Masumi imagines that she’ll like it regardless.

She clears the snow with a swell of heavenly power, sending the birds chirping in alarm and flying fast from the surrounding trees. She rends the earth with a swipe of her sword, and lowers Yuzu down gently. The displaced earth and snow settle down on top with an equal amount of care.

It’s the end. Masumi stares down at the disturbed patch of snow, feeling as if she’d missed something incredibly important. Anxiety, she thinks, is a new feeling. It swells cold and dark and she can’t help but wish she couldn’t feel it at all.

The heavens pull again, and as she spreads her wings, taking flight to a place beyond the stars, Masumi closes her eyes and wishes her futile wish once more.

:::

Hokuto and Yaiba greet her at the gates to the heavens- she looks, but already Yuzu is nowhere to be found.

“Hey, Masumi! How was it? Not that bad, ri-“ she brushes past Yaiba, through the gates. She can sense the two of them following her after a moment as she flies fast to Yuuya’s cloud. She arrives without announcing herself, Yaiba and Hokuto right at her heels, and Yuuya looks up, startled.

“Oh, Masumi! You’re back! How did-“

Masumi stalks up to his desk, puts her hands on the table and leans down. “I’m going with her,” she says.

Yuuya blinks, long and owlish. “Um… While it’s great that you like being a guardian, you know the rules, Masumi. First she has to go through the proper processes, then-“

“She’s getting reincarnated,” Masumi interrupts. With a wave of his hand and a spark of intent, a scroll appears, and Yuuya unravels it, scans down the line of names.

“Yes, she is. The request just got approved. But you know the rules, Masumi. An angel can only guard one incarnation of the same human soul. It’s-“

“That’s not what I mean,” Masumi says, and Yuuya stands, sends her a long look.

“You know what you’re asking, right?”

Masumi nods. “I do. This is what I want to do. Put me in the fate cycle. Let me follow her. There’s… I missed something. I want another chance.”

Hokuto and Yaiba whisper behind her while Yuuya mulls it over, a strange mixture of emotions flashing across his face. “This will make you happy, won’t it? You’re not doing this out of duty?”

“Of course not. She…” And there it is again, that swell of emotion that she shouldn’t be able to feel, that she was never supposed to gain-

“She changed my existence.” She says it will all the fierce pride she had once reserved for talk of the armies of the heavens. There are more emotions there too, but Masumi has no vocabulary for them. She supposes it doesn’t matter, at this point.

Yuuya smiles. It’s a little envious. “Then go.”

“Thank you,” Masumi says- she had planned to go with or without permission, but this makes it easier, makes her from a fallen angel to simply a human. She turns to leave, to step off the clouds of heaven for the final time, but Hokuto grabs her arm before she can take the final step.

“Hey,” he says, and for a moment, she’s angry that he would try and stop her- but his expression is calm. At his side, Yaiba flashes her a toothy grin.

“We’ll watch you,” Hokuto says.

Yaiba waves a hand. “Probably not officially, but… We’ll be around.”

She’s overwhelmed with the sudden rush of gratitude. “I’ll see you sometime,” she replies, and Hokuto lets her go, watching as she falls.

The air rushes fast around her as she digs her fingers into her chest, seizing heavenly grace between them and dragging it out from her, inch by painful inch. Her wings burn around her as she falls from the sky, and if she had any breath, she’s certain that she would be screaming as feathers and bones disintegrated to dust and ash on the wind.

Her grace slips from beneath her fingers as she continues to fall, painting a streak of starlight across the sky. Pain wracks her body, feeling suddenly so vulnerable, and to distract herself, she thinks. She imagines parties and music and the clamor of what she imagines high society to be. She imagines royals and feasts and the flicker of candlelight over a familiar smile. A melody falls from those lips, calming and sweet, like a lullaby. And as she hits the ground, she imagines-


	3. Your Name a Myth on My Lips

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Night is when ambitions run wild, when schemes take shape and criminals adorn masks of gods long dead. Or, where Yuzu meets a mysterious figure at a masquerade. She's not happy that they keep meeting. Really, she's not.

_Our next meeting was in passing,_

_and I’d never know your name,_

_but as we ran, your hand in mine,_

_I’d know I’d loved you all the same._

* * *

 

The masquerade is a lovely affair, more extravagant that Yuzu could ever have imagined. The pride of high society mill about the main hall with elegant masks and equally elaborate costumes. To her left, a man with a suit of peacock feathers stands with wine glass in hand. To her right, a woman in fine furs and a delicate fox-mask gossips gleefully to a group of women dressed as swan ballerinas, giggling politely behind white-feathered fans.

Yuzu and Yuugo weave their way through the crowd, Persephone in her summery white dress and flowers weaved into her done-up hair on the arm of Hermes, wings on his sandals and fine leather pouch over his shoulders.

A waiter brushes past them with a plate of hors d’oeuvres, and Yuzu reaches out delicately with a flower-painted hand to take one, popping it into her mouth with an appreciative hum.

“To high society,” she says under her breath to Yuugo, and he raises his flute of champagne, echoes her sentiment before taking a long drink. They make their way into the dance hall adjacent. The sound of piano and violin greet them, the smell of smoke strong and heavy in the air.

Everywhere there is movement, and Yuzu struggles to catch sight of their target in the soft, hazy candlelight, among the swirl of long skirts and the constant flutter of motion as couples waltz across the floor.

“There,” Yuugo says with an incline of his head, and Yuzu catches sight of her immediately. Mademoiselle Leblanc, standing at the other end of the floor, sipping on a glass of wine as she watches her party-goers make merry.

Yuzu takes a step towards the dance floor, holding her free hand out to Yuugo. “Shall we dance?”

They dance, moving steadily closer towards the other end of the floor- but though they’ve practiced, Yuugo’s steps are still far from elegant, and the closer they get to the center of the floor, the more attention they start to draw. Yuzu casts an urgent glance over Yuugo’s shoulder at where Leblanc had been standing- only to find her gone, vanished into the crowd again. With a sigh, Yuzu starts to pull him off the floor.

They make it all the way to the edge, and Yuzu still can’t catch sight of Leblanc. She exchanges a glance with Yuugo, who sends her a subtle shrug.

So we’ve lost her then, Yuzu thinks with no small amount of frustration. She opens her mouth to whisper up to Yuugo when there’s a gentle tap on her shoulder. Standing behind her is a man with dark black hair and a suit to match, a ruby-jeweled mask making his eyes seem just as vibrantly red. If it is a costume, Yuzu does not recognize it. He holds out a gloved hand in clear invitation.

Yuzu leans her face up to Yuugo’s ear on the premise of a kiss on the cheek. _“Find Leblanc,_ ” she whispers, _“We need her.”_

They need Leblanc- or, more accurately, they need the jewels set in gold around Leblanc’s neck. This country will soon come to revolution- in days, in decades, but before the turn of the century, certainly- and they intend to finance it not with the blood of the poor farmers but with the jewels of the rich.

Yuugo nods as she pulls away, turns to take the stranger’s hand.

“My name is Persephone,” she says, letting the stranger lead her out onto the floor, “If I may be so bold to ask yours?”

The music shifts into another waltz, and the stranger presses a gloved finger to his lips before extending their clasped hands. He places his other hand on her waist and she puts hers on his shoulder, and they dance. He leads her with confident steps, and for a moment, Yuzu loses herself in the music, in the rhythm. Despite herself, it pulls a smile from Yuzu’s lips, real and genuine. In those few moments, she feels, absurdly enough, like a princess, not unlike the noblewoman she’s trying to portray.

They break apart as the waltz draw to a close, and Yuzu catches sight of Yuugo at the corner of the hall, watching her from behind another flute of champagne. She wonders, with a flash of guilt, just how long he had been waiting.

“Thank you,” she says to the mystery man, and he smiles at her, a small thing. She returns it, averts her eyes slightly. “I’d like to dance again sometime.”

And with that, Yuzu steps elegantly and calmly off the floor, back to where Yuugo is waiting. “Did you find her?” she whispers, and Yuugo gives a subtle nod as he hands the champagne glass off to her.

“She’s gone upstairs,” he says to her, “Think it’s about time for a fainting spell?”

Yuzu nods, takes a sip of champagne. “Let’s move to the stairs.”

They move together, cutting through the crowds with a meandering sort of purpose- enough so that no one would try and stop them for small talk, seemingly random enough that no one would take notice of their real purpose at the masquerade.

Yuzu sets the now-empty flute down on a waiter’s tray as they enter the main hall again, then make their way to the set of grand stairs in the center of the room. They pass by them parallel, and Yuzu pulls off Yuugo’s arm, sways dangerously on her feet, crumples with careful practice onto the marble stairs.

A few of the women clustered by the stairs gasp. Yuugo is back at her side in an instant, pressing gently on her forehead, gathering her up into his arms. “Where,” he asks what Yuzu imagines must be a member of the staff, “is the nearest balcony? I’m afraid she’s had a bit too much excitement, and some fresh air would do her some good, away from the crowds.”

“Up these stairs and to your left, sir. The very first door. Do you need help carrying her up?”

“No, no,” Yuugo says, gathering her up in his arms, “She’d surely be embarrassed if we made a scene. I’d hate to cause Mademoiselle Leblanc any trouble.”

Yuzu lets her hand swing and head loll as Yuugo carries her up the staircase. She can feel gazes on them, but the chatter in the hall continued on undisturbed, and Yuzu figures that they’ve attracted the least amount of attention possible with a stunt like this.

She hears the sound of a door opening and the cool breeze of the early autumn wind on her skin, and Yuugo sets her down on her feet as she opens her eyes. Her excitement starts to rise, a gleeful feeling drawing a smile to her lips and a sparkle to her eye.

“You,” Yuugo said, “are so _heavy_.”

The feeling disappears. Yuzu smacks him gently upside the head. “Let’s just go, Yuugo.”

Yuugo rubs his head, looking for all the world like a scolded puppy, not a notorious thief. Yuzu leads the way back inside, and the look vanishes as they prowl the upper halls. Their brief trip onto the balcony had put them out of sight of the partygoers and staff on the main level, and the left hall was otherwise unoccupied.

“What door is it?” Yuzu whispers, and Yuugo leads then down the hall, stopping at a pair of old oak doors. They swing open soundlessly at his touch. Yuzu’s hand twitches towards the knife hidden under the folds of her skirt.

Yuugo pulls a single-shot pistol from his pouch, then slips inside the doors, Yuzu following fast and silent at his back. The room is dark, the heavy curtains drawn up tight. A single candle casts flickering shadows long across the boudoir on the other side of the room. Yuzu catches sight of her reflection, washed out and ghostly in the mirror above it.

Yuzu nudges Yuugo gently with an elbow in the small of his back. _‘She’s not here,_ ’ she means, and Yuugo gives a small nod, crossing the floor to the boudoir, the soft leather of his sandals soundless on the polished wood floor.

There is a jewelry box on the boudoir, large but set delicately with engraving and gold accents. They key lays at the side, and Yuugo opens the box in one smooth motion, Yuzu watching over his shoulder.

It’s empty.

Yuzu reaches out to lift the layered trays from the box as Yuugo picks up the box entirely, searching for a fake bottom. The search reveals nothing.

The rest of the room reveals nothing more as Yuzu casts her gaze over it. This is undeniably Mademoiselle Leblanc’s room- her clothes are packed nearly away in the drawers, the scent of rose perfume hangs heavy in the air- and yet there is nothing.

The key still sits on the top of the boudoir, catching in the light of the burning candle like a challenge.

“Someone,” Yuzu whispers, “beat us here.”

“Then where the hell is Leblanc?” Yuugo whispers back.

Yuzu picks the key up from the boudoir, running her thumb over the deep red tassel attached. After a moment, she slips it into the breast of her dress for lack of pockets. “Let’s go find her before they do.”

They head back into the main hallway and Yuzu inclines her head towards the bend in the hall. _‘I’ll search farther into the mansion_ ,’ she means, and Yuugo understands, turns to check the other doors that they had passed.

The hall beyond the bend is dark and quiet- night had long since settled in on the sky above, and all the candles were downstairs, where strains of music and the chatter of partygoers still made their way faintly to Yuzu’s ears. Occasional bits of light from the stars above filtered in through the breaks in the curtains that lined the hall to her left. Halfway down the hall, one of the windows was open, letting the gathering smoke clear from the hall. Doors lined the right, imposing and closed.

Yuzu pushes one open- nothing but an empty guest room, devoid of any personal affects. The next room is the same, and the next, and the next, and Yuzu hopes that Yuugo is having more luck than she is. Nervous tension starts to rise, and she can feel their time growing short- someone will come to check on the balcony sooner rather than later, and then the staff will be after them in an instant.

Yuzu goes for the next door, one hand resting over her hidden knife as one pushes the door open- but through she turns the handle, the door remains stubbornly closed. Yuzu tries again, to the same result. She eyes the lock. It’s small, almost too delicate for the lock to a door. Yuzu pulls the key from her dress, and it slides smoothly into the lock.

As she turns the key, the door popping open with a pleasant click, Yuzu draws the knife. She pushes the door open slowly, revealing the room inside in centimeters at a time, as if was just the wind from the open window behind her blowing open the door-

With a sharp breath, realization hit Yuzu with all the clarity of a shove to her back. Yuzu stumbled through the now open door, turning as she regained her balance to face the newcomer.

The man in the black suit smiles at her, diamonds and gold looped around his gloved hand.

“You!” Yuzu gasps, “But how?”

The man only presses a gloved finger to his lips again, smile not fading- and Yuzu’s had enough of this mysterious act, brandishes the knife. “Who are you? How did you manage to get that when you _should_ have been dancing with me?”

The man shakes his head. Yuzu takes a step closer. “I want answers.”

He mirrors her step, moving backwards towards the window with every step she takes forwards. She knows what he’s doing, knows he must have a dozen escape routes already mapped out. He stops when his legs hit the wall, his silhouette backlit by the light of the full moon. Yuzu continues forward, and he does not make another move.

“Answer me,” Yuzu says, moving into his personal space, wishing that she had worn taller wooden heels. She moves to raise the knife to his throat, and he moves before Yuzu’s even fully registered the motion, catching her flower-painted wrists and leaning in close to whisper in her ear with a distinctly feminine voice.

 “After seeing you dance, I thought more of you, Persephone. A shame I was wrong. You have such a beautiful smile.”

And then her lips were swept up into a kiss and the thief was gone, releasing Yuzu’s wrists and slipping out the window without a second glance.

It had barely been a kiss, more just a catch of lips against lips. Even so, the taste of pomegranate wine lingered on her tongue.

“I’m going to prove you wrong!” Yuzu yells down to her retreating back, subtlety be damned. The thief raises one hand without turning, Leblanc’s necklace glimmering in the moonlight.

They will meet again, of that much Yuzu is sure- and next time, she resolves, she’ll have the upper hand.

From down the hall, she hears the familiar sound of Yuugo whistling faux-innocently, and Yuzu whips around towards the sound, hiding the knife and wondering just how much Yuugo had seen. He’s trying to keep a straight face as he heads down the hall towards her, inconspicuous wooden box tucked under his arm, but failing miserably at keeping the grin from seeping through.

“So,” he says as they make haste towards the back exit, “Are you going to be making a habit of being charmed by rival thieves? Because, you know, I don’t mind and all, but we-“

Yuzu elbows him in the side. Yuugo sends her a pitiful glance, but can’t hide the teasing smile, and she knows, then, that she’s never going to hear the end of it.

:::

They go on four more missions in the next two months, working their way through two more members of King Atlas’ court and a few outer-circle nobles. Each and every time, the jewels, the gold, the money they were after was gone, only a memento of the mysterious thief left in its place.

The fifth time they strike at a court members’ personal library, aiming for the selection of rubies he keeps in a display case in the center of the room. By the time they slip past security, sure that no one else could have gotten in before them, the rubies are gone.

A pomegranate sits under the locked glass, and Yuzu knocks her hand on the display before they make their way past the guards again, their four minute window expiring.

They make their way back to the small house they call their base of operations, and Yuzu flops down irritably onto the straw and feather mattress. “I don’t understand! How is she doing it? It’s like she’s not even human, how she’s always one step ahead of us.”

Yuugo shrugs. “Dunno, but she’s really got to knock it off fast. We need the money, or else no one’s going to support the revolt.”

“I know,” Yuzu groans, and then sits up, a thought occurring suddenly. “What if we try going after someone we’ve already targeted?”

Yuugo sends her a long, skeptical glance. “Okay, sounds great, but… Isn’t that going to be hard?”

“That’s the point,” Yuzu says, renewed purpose coursing through her veins. “She wouldn’t be expecting us to do it. And the harder the operation, the better the chance we have of beating her to it. There’s two of us and only one of her. We can do this.”

Yuugo gets easily caught up in her excitement. “Right, let’s do this! Leblanc just got a shipment from the east, think there’s anything good in it?”

Yuzu smiles. “I hear silks are going to market at three gold pieces each.”

“And I hear there’s some silver finery in that shipment,” Yuugo replies. They burst into a flurry of activity. Yuzu throws on her mask and her darkest clothes. Yuugo gathers up their lockpicks, ties the straps of a burlap sack around his shoulders.

They’re out in ten minutes, creeping through the back alleys of the slums silent as shadows. Leblanc’s estate is on the other side of the town, where people like to pretend that nothing south of the bridge over the river exists.

Yuzu hates it, but supposes now she can’t complain- no one ever thinks the uneducated, unemployed young men and women of the city slums capable of getting away with even petty theft at the central market, let alone the series of heists on King Atlas’ court.

Yuugo climbs up a grand tree that sits just outside the wall of Leblanc’s estate, and Yuzu follows him up. They perch delicately in the branches that are slowly starting to lose their leaves like oversized crows, watching as guards made their rounds around the outer walls of the estate.

The guards make one rotation- Yuzu counts five minutes. The guard comes around again. Six, this time. Yuzu counts out two more than taps Yuugo on the shoulder, and he drops wordlessly down onto the wall, then slides carefully down the inside, Yuzu right at his back.

There’s nothing but open ground between them and the service door at the side of the mansion, and they make a break for it, knowing it’s the end of them if the guard comes around the corner again, catches them in the glow of his lantern.

Yuugo crouches down at the lock, tools already in his hands, and the door is open in record time. He ushers Yuzu in, then lets the door swing gently shut behind them. They’re in a part of the mansion that Yuzu only knows from the plans they had managed to gather up before their first heist. The back rooms have only the kitchens and staff bedrooms. Yuzu starts down the hallway, clinging close to the wall, and starts tracing her way through the mansion, towards the sitting rooms in the front that Leblanc uses for business.

Yuzu slips quickly past a door that’s slightly ajar, the faint light of a candle casting a warm glow through the crack-

There’s a crash, a muffled curse. Yuzu’s attention snaps towards the door as she makes a break for the bend in the hall, Yuugo racing behind her. They make it just as another door opens and the hall is cast into light.

“What did I tell you about messing with all those parts of yours late at night!” a maid starts to scold, but her voice is already fading away as Yuzu and Yuugo continue down the hall at as fast a clip they can while avoiding any unnecessary noise.

The manor goes silent again as they head into the front parlor rooms, and Yuugo lets out a long breath of relief as the series of double doors into the parlors begins. Yuzu inclines her head down the hall, and Yuugo nods, taking the set of doors to the left. He tries the door- locked, and so he goes to work on opening them. Yuzu, meanwhile, goes for the farthest set.

She tries the handle, not expecting them to open- but the door opens smoothly and silently under her touch. In an instant, she has a knife in hand, expecting a trap. She spares a single second to look back at Yuugo, but he’s already inside his set of doors, and so Yuzu slips through hers, ready to parry off a guard’s strike, ready to dodge out of the way of a shot.

The parlor is dark, save for one single candle burning on the table near the central gathering of chairs. Unconscious guards lay fallen, breathing peacefully but otherwise unlikely to wake up at the sides of the door- and sitting in the center of the room, reclining in a fur lined chair is none other than the mysterious thief herself.

“Hades,” Yuzu says, letting the door swing shut behind her.

Hades waves a hand in elegant greeting. A silver bracelet set with diamonds catches the faint light on her wrist. “Persephone. So nice of you to join me tonight.”

Yuzu steps closer. She doesn’t raise her knife. “You really should stop following me around, Hades. It’s unbecoming of you.”

“From my perspective,” Hades replies, leading forward to rest her head on her hands, elbows on her knees, “You’re the one who’s following me, my dear Persephone.”

Yuzu bristles, but slips her knife away, ventures closer to the other thief. “Did you ever think there might be a reason for that?”

The reason, of course, is that Yuzu’s realized that they’re likely getting their information from the same source. She doesn’t go into it intending to tilt Hades’ head up with one hand, to grab her wrist with her other, to pull her into a soft kiss like a reversal of the first night in the Leblanc mansion.

She doesn’t mean to put any intent behind it, not really- but intent and feeling are, Yuzu finds, two very different things.

Yuzu pulls back with a breathless smile, dangling Hades’ bracelet from her hand. She meets Hades’ eyes with the fire of a victory blazing behind them. Hades’ own eyes are startled, soft and appreciative. “I’ll be taking this,” Yuzu says, then turns out of the room while the other thief’s still staring at her, momentarily stunned.

Yuugo’s heading down the hall towards her, burlap bag noticeably more full slung over his shoulder, and Yuzu races towards him, grabbing his arm and dragging him with even as he makes a surprised noise of protest- but then he’s running with her, their feet light and gliding over the new wood, and they’re out the service door again in an instant. It’s a small matter to get back up and over the wall, then they’re running free, back to being shadows in a world that would rather not notice them at all.

:::

The royal court is brought to uproar by their heist, and Yuzu and Yuugo listen to rumors of infighting in the royal court as they waste the time away on the bridge between the uptown and the slums.

They run mission after mission, taking anything that seems like it could fetch funding for the revolution, no matter what pittance. Hades meets them there every time, and they’ve found themselves in a dangerous competition of trying to one-up the other. Each time Yuzu finds that they’re cutting their windows closer and closer, and each time Yuzu finds that less and less of her time is spent actually _stealing_ , her attention stolen by-

But she’s getting distracted again, and Yuzu shakes her head, returns her attention to the world in front of her now.

“I hear King Atlas is going to have the entire court leave their estates,” one of the gossipers says, and his companion is quick to shush him.

“Don’t be so loud, Rua. _We’re_ part of the court, remember? I’m not having our parents get in trouble for our gossiping while they’re away.”

“Yeah, yeah,” the boy says, and then they’re gone, turning a street corner out of earshot. Yuugo shoots Yuzu a broad grin.

“About time to go for the final prize, huh?” he says, and Yuzu is about to nod before he continues- “Anyway, I think your girlfriend is planning on going for it anyway.”

Yuzu shushes Yuugo and sends a long glance around, but there’s no one in immediate sight, and she relaxes. Still, when she speaks, it’s in a pointed whisper. “She’s not my girlfriend. She’s my rival. Our rival.”

“Yeah,” Yuugo replies, “You just kiss her every time you meet. Totally not girlfriends.”

“I don’t even know her name!” Yuzu says, but there’s no heart behind the protest. Yuugo grins in victory.

Yuzu throws up her hands and walks back towards their shared home, hoping her face isn’t too terribly flushed as Yuugo follows behind her, laughing occasionally.

:::

Here is how they plan the heist- they’ve known since the beginning that their final target of the court will be the manor of King Atlas himself. His family is new to the throne, but showered in riches nonetheless. Anything from the palace would fetch them a fortune at market- but they’re not after just a fortune, they’re after the greatest riches the world can provide. The house jewels are set into two sets of crowns- one for the King, one for the Queen, and they’re far more extravagant than anything the pair of them have ever seen in their lives. But, Yuzu knows, they’re guarded around the clock- both the castle grounds and the crowns themselves.

They stake out the castle for three days before they make their move, memorizing guard rotations and trying to estimate maps of the premises. Yuugo goes to meet with their informant the night before the heist, who tells them the location of the crowns in the castle- the room in the center of the second floor of the castle, just removed from the throne room itself. It’s a shorter time frame than they usually make a heist plan in, but it’ll have to do, Yuzu thinks as they race across the castle gardens like shadows cast by the clouds weaving in and out over the moon.

There’s shuffling, the telltale sounds of footsteps coming around a bend in the garden, and Yuzu drags Yuugo behind a bush, leaping behind it and holding their breath. The glow of a lantern passes over the bush one, twice- Yuzu doesn’t dare to blink. It lingers for a second too long, and Yuzu resists the urge to go for the knife strapped to her side, but the guard huffs, then moves on, his footsteps fading down the gravel path until moonlight is the only thing illuminating them once more.

“They’re early,” Yuzu mouths to Yuugo, and Yuugo nods, grimaces, then looks tentatively over the bush. He signals with a wave of his hand, and Yuzu follows him over. They take a few cautious steps, hyperaware of the sound of their feet disturbing the gravel, then speed up their pace, heading towards the service door on the side of the garden entrance.

Yuugo handles the lock, and they’re in the castle in the blink of an eye. All the curtains of the service hallway are drawn, and they take one long, tense second to let their eyes adjust before heading to the small stone stairwell at the end of the hall. It’s claustrophobic, and Yuzu’s shoulders nearly brush the walls as they ascend, spiraling upwards.

Yuzu practically feels the walls close in on her. She moves faster- if they’re caught here, there’s no room for escape. As the walls seem to grow narrower, Yuzu’s suddenly struck with the reality that this, of all places, could be her grave.

Before that thought can fully take hold, however, they burst out onto the second floor. They’re immediately faced with a fork in the hall, and this is where the plan starts to get muddy- they have no map of the castle. Though the informant told them the approximate location of the crown room, they hadn’t known which hallway leads to it. The hallways, for the most part, are mirror images of each other, and moonlight floods in through the open curtains.

Yuzu inclines her head to the left, and Yuugo nods, makes to head down the right. “Good luck,” Yuzu mouths at him, and Yuugo grins.

“You too,” he mouths back, and then they head down their separate hallways. Yuzu’s counted three minutes since they’ve arrived in the castle, meaning the second floor guard rotations should be somewhere on the other side of the castle- but she factors in the time that they wasted outside in the garden, waiting for the guard to pass and shakes her head, doubles her pace.

She reaches the first bend in the hall and glances around carefully- a guard is wandering down it at a lackadaisical pace, lantern swinging from his hand. Yuzu waits until he rounds the bend, counting another minute go by. She waits another thirty seconds, casting glances down both halls- then she ducks around the corner, heading to the window closest to her.

A great tree’s branches come parallel to the window, and Yuzu forces it open, feels the cool autumn breeze whistle through the branches. She heads down the hall then, following the guard until he starts down a set of stairs that Yuzu wouldn’t have seen if he hadn’t disappeared down them. For a moment, she’s curious, but there are two guards stationed next to a set of otherwise inconspicuous doors, and Yuzu knows that she’s found the crown room. She catches sight of a familiar frame on the other side of the hall, and Yuzu makes a break for it, jams an elbow under one of the guard’s ribs and knocks him hard on the back of the neck before he can catch his breath. The other guard sinks to the floor, similarly incapacitated.

“Sorry,” Yuzu whispers down to the guard, then looks up- Hades is standing next to her, picking the lock on the door. “Thank you,” Yuzu says, and Hades just giggles. The door swings open, and they slip inside together.

The crown room is small and windowless, but there are no guards inside- which strikes Yuzu as a bit strange, and she holds Hades back for a moment as she takes in the room.

“What is it?” Hades whispers, with an impatient tap of her foot, “We need to hurry. The guards will be coming in less than two minutes.”

Yuzu drops her hand and goes immediately for the King’s crown. Her skills with the lockpick aren’t as honed as Yuugo’s, but she has the crown safely stowed away in the burlap sack on her back only a few moments after Hades has the Queen’s.

They share a long glance of shared victory, then turn back to the door- only to find the doors thrown wide, a very displeased man staring at them, pistol in hand. “What,” King Atlas says, “are you doing with my crown?”

Yuzu takes in the situation in an instant- the King is between them and the only exit, a pistol in hand, and she can hear the sound of the guards swarming to his side from down the hall-

With no other choice, Yuzu makes a sudden dart at him, then veers off to his right, his shot missing far wide as Hades does the same on his left. “Let’s go!” Yuzu says, and prays that the pistol was like Yuugo’s, only a single shot. They race back down the hall, towards the window that Yuzu had left open for them- the sudden pain in her shoulder as a shot rings out behind them tells her that her prayers had been in vain.

The pain forces her to drop Hades’ hand as her fingers go slack. There’s another shot that goes just wide, and Yuzu can feel the guards closing in on them, then-

“Hey! You don’t want a dead King on your hands, you’re going to stop chasing them, now!” It’s Yuugo’s voice, and the sounds of pursuit die off from behind them, slow at first, then all at once as another shot breaks through the night-

Yuzu’s first thought, hysterically, is, _If you just killed the King, Yuugo, what did we need all this money for the revolution for?_

Then, sudden rush of hysteria gone as she and Hades make it to the escape route, Yuzu starts to pray. _Please be okay, Yuugo_.

They jump into the tree branches from the open window, and Yuzu struggles to keep her balance with only one arm. After the initial shock, she gets down with relative ease, and she makes a break for the iron gate they had climbed in over. Hades, for some reason, is still running behind her.

Yuzu’s lost track of the minutes, so when they almost run headlong into a guard whose lantern had gone out, she doesn’t have time to knock him out before he’s raising the alarm.

All hell breaks loose- Yuzu can hear the guards outside charging for them as they scramble over the gate, Hades pulling her up and over, trying not to jostle her arm- can hear the sound of gunshots and a scream she thinks comes from inside the castle-

She repeats her quick, desperate prayer for Yuugo’s safety as she lands on the other side of the gate and sets off running towards the bridge, back towards the slums. Yuzu doesn’t stop her breakneck pace until they’re crossing the river and the sounds of pursuit from behind them have levelled off- but she doesn’t have time to catch her breath before a child is pointing and screaming at them.

“Come on!” Hades says, then takes her good arm and pulls her into the slums. Yuzu’s lungs burn as they weave from street to street, and her feet are like blocks of lead that she threatens to stumble over with each step. She can’t feel her right arm anymore.

“Just a little more, Persephone,” Hades says from ahead of her, and Yuzu forces herself to keep going, forces herself to not give up hope. They duck into houses, take shortcuts through store doors that don’t close quite right-

They finally stop for a moment in a storefront that’s long been empty. Hades turns to her, running a careful hand up her right arm. “Can I see it?” she asks, and Yuzu nods.

Hades takes a careful glance over the wound, then pulls a silk scarf from her bag and ties it tightly around Yuzu’s arm before she can even think to protest. “I was going to give it to you as a present,” Hades says, “But I think I’d rather see you safe instead.”

Yuzu doesn’t know how to reply to that, but Hades continues on, undeterred. “It’s just a graze, thankfully, but it worries me that it’s still bleeding. Do you have a safehouse around here somewhere?”

“I do,” Yuzu says, “but we need to meet up with my partner first. If we’re caught without the crowns, chances are they didn’t see us well enough to charge us.”

“Your partner… That Hermes is still alive?” Hades questions, and Yuzu nods.

“He has to be. We have an agreed meeting place on the other side of the slums. I believe that he’ll be there, but… I can’t get there by myself. Will you keep helping me out?” Yuzu asks, hoping that she already knows the answer.

Hades smiles at her, takes her hand and helps her back to her feet. “Of course. Anything for you, Persephone.”

The sound of pursuers closes in on the shop, and they slip out through the back before they can be spotted. Dawn is nearing in on them by the time that they find themselves turning into an alley, having lost their pursuers for the hundredth time that night. Yuzu tosses up the crowns to Yuugo who stands on a nearby roof.

“Get them out fast, we’ll be waiting in the usual place!”

The sound of boots over the dirty streets echo down to them. Cold and foreboding, a single tendril of dread curls its way up Yuzu’s spine. She sends Yuugo a pleading glance. “Please,” she says, and Yuugo nods, then disappears over the other side of the building.

A whispered, “Be safe” follows in his wake.

A line of guards is at the other side of the alley before they even have a chance to take a step out. Yuzu grabs Hades’ hand on instinct. They take a step back together, backs pressed against the dirty alley wall.

The guards take a step in. Hades squeezes her hand.

“Are you ready to see a miracle?” she asks. Yuzu looks around the dirty alley strewn with last week’s trash, watches as the guards draw their pistols-

Yuzu squeezes back.

“Yeah,” she says, “I am."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While I was halfway through writing this, I realized that it probably would have made more sense for Yuzu's partner to be Yuuya or Yuuto, given the arc v manga... Oh well, it was fun to write regardless.


	4. If Here I Could Belong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Masumi meets a strange, not quite human girl at the beach near her new home. It's the start of a love beyond the both of them.

_You once thought me enchanted,_

_and perhaps, my dear, it’s true-_

_for our story’s turned to one of falling_

_into deep and vibrant blue._

* * *

 

The town is small and dingy, and Masumi doesn’t speak a word of the local language. She sticks close to her father’s side as they walk up the path to their new home- a small, modern mansion situated near the coast. The mountains loom close in the inward skyline, and her father points out a set of buildings and conveyors at their base.

_“There’s the mine, Masumi_ ,” he says, “ _That’s where we’re going to make our fortune_.”

Masumi cranes her neck backwards, towards the sparkling ocean, stretching out pristine as far as the eye can see. She thinks that she prefers that sight much more than the greys of the mines to the east.

Her father handles the moving company, and all the finery of their new home comes pouring out of covered wagons and horse-drawn carriages. Masumi slips away from the noise of it all and wanders over towards the coast. Their new home is on the high plains, and jagged cliffs break into the skyline, looming over the ocean below. Walking along them carefully, Masumi peers over the edge, searching for a way down to the water’s edge.

Her search takes her further and further down the gentle slope of the plain, until the village can’t be seen over the rise of it. A small meadow of wildflowers covers the area, clusters of white and blue and pink breaking the green and dusty brown of the soil. It’s there that she finds the beach. She takes a few steps onto the sun-warmed sand and takes a deep breath. The air here tastes much cleaner than in the city, and Masumi thinks that she could grow to tolerate living here.

She moves to walk along the shoreline, just short of the breaking waves- _“Wear nice clothes,_ ” her father had told her, _“We have to show our status here.”_ \- toward the bend in the beach, obscured from the rest by an overhang and a boulder that must have rolled from the cliffs.

She rounds the corner, then stops in her tracks.

Boulders peek out from beneath the waves, their broad, flat surfaces like skipping stones lodged in the mud. A girl sits on top of one, running fingers through her hair. She doesn’t notice Masumi, not yet, and Masumi continues to stare, the sun catching the gentle glimmer of the girl’s scales. Where her legs would have trailed into the water, a fish’s tail is half submerged instead.

She is, Masumi thinks, the most beautiful thing that she’s ever seen in her life.

The girl turns her head and spots Masumi, startles with a small gasp. For a moment, they lock eyes- and Masumi, clichés be damned, thinks that her eyes are deeper blue than the most precious of sapphires.

With a sudden movement and a splash, the girl is gone, vanished into the water.

“Wait!” Masumi calls after her, barely remembering to stop at the water’s edge, but the girl is already gone. A gull caws overhead, and Masumi slowly lowers her hand, suddenly unsure if she had seen anything there at all.

:::

Masumi returns home, thoughts of the girl turning over and over in her mind. There are stories of creatures like these, she knows, remembers them from the faerie tales that her mother would tell her as a child.

But surely, she thinks, they are just stories, like the fae and their magic, meant to quell children and remind them of their morals and manners. So she does not mention the girl as they sit down to dinner in their newly-furnished dining hall, Masumi and her father sitting at one end of a table far too big for just the two of them alone.

“I’ll be in and out for the first few days,” her father says, and Masumi nods dutifully. “Most of the paperwork has been taken care of, but there’s still much to do about the mining process itself. I’ll be working with the overseer, but I’ve brought along some staff to take care of the house. If you need anything and I’m not here, I’ve told them to give you anything.”

“Thank you, father,” she says, then, because she’s still feeling curious, “and may I walk around the village while you’re gone?”

“Of course, of course. Just be careful around those locals, they don’t speak a word of anything we know. They haven’t built any power lines out past the village hall, either, so make sure you stay close.”

Masumi nods. If the girl is not there tomorrow, Masumi thinks, then she’ll admit that she’d imagined the whole thing. If she is, well… Masumi doesn’t know what she’ll do, but she’s always been good at making up plans as she goes. This time will be no different.

:::

She wakes late in the afternoon, the long days of travel by train and by carriage taking a toll on her. She makes sure to dress in a pair of shoes she can shrug off easily, then informs one of the maids that she’s going out. The maid, more concerned with trying to unwrap a painting from its protective cloth, pays her no mind past a distracted, “Goodbye, miss.”

The village down the road is bustling with activity, and Masumi heads towards it. The speech of the locals washes over her like a wave, a steady stream of strange sounds that fade to background noise as Masumi takes in the new sights.

The city of her childhood had been industrial and proud, and rivers ran black with oil and waste as the air turned hazy from the abundant grey factories that ran all hours of the day and night, electric lights cutting through the darkness of the cool evenings.

While Masumi loves her home for its vastness, she’s fascinated by this new world for its sheer expanses of _nothingness_. The town itself is no more than a few cross streets painted against the wide spread of the sea. The only buildings with more than one floor are the town hall and her own mansion.

It’s quaint, Masumi thinks, and more than a little charming, though she imagines she’ll grow bored of it within the year and ask to be sent back to the city for schooling by the next winter.

There’s a tap on her shoulder, and Masumi turns quick, faced with a boy that looks to be about her age who speaks to her in broken language and a heavy accent. “You new girl? At big house?”

Masumi nods cautiously. The boy lights up, smiles wide and offers her a hand. “My name is Marco. It is very nice to meet you.”

He sounds like he’s reciting something he’d been taught, but Masumi takes his hand and mimics his format. “My name is Masumi. It’s nice to meet you too.”

Marco gives her hand a hearty shake, still smiling wide. A woman calls, hurrying over to his side, and they exchange lilting and lyrical words. Marco crosses his arms, and his words grow short, clipped, clearly fed up. He makes a vague gesture in Masumi’s direction, and Masumi hates how lost she is without the ability to understand a single word.

Eventually, the woman that Masumi thinks to be Marco’s mother shakes her head and pulls back, but not before handing two round and shiny-skinned fruits off to him. Marco immediately turns and hands one off to Masumi.

“For you,” he says, and Masumi accepts it, goes to take a bite out of it like an apple, only to find the skin hard and unyielding.

Marco laughs, and Masumi glares. Marco seems largely unaffected. “No, no,” he says, then starts to pull into a seam in the skin. The flesh of the fruit yields under his touch, revealing a soft and juicy fruit inside.

With a small huff, Masumi follows his lead. The fruit is sweet and utterly unlike anything that Masumi has ever tried before, and she says as much to Marco, who doesn’t seem to understand but seems delighted regardless.

Marco spends the rest of the afternoon dragging her around the village, pointing out places and things with explanations in mixed language that Masumi only half understands- but she has words now, no matter how awkward and unwieldy they feel on her tongue.

The sun sets and Marco retreats into his home with a loud “ _goodbye!”_ and Masumi returns to the mansion, only realizing once she’s being ushered to dinner by one of the maids that she had forgotten all about the mysterious girl down at the beach.

:::

She spends the next few days with Marco as they race about the village, learning words and phrases and stumbling over them horribly, but learning all the same. He shows her all the places the village children play, where stray cats roam, and how to get on the top of the village hall, where it seems that the whole of the world stretches out before them.

Masumi can see the place where the base of the hill curves gently into the beach and feels a sudden flash of regret for forgetting the strange girl for the last few days.

_‘Tomorrow,’_ she thinks, as she and Marco start trading the words for sky, for cloud, for sun, _‘I’ll go tomorrow_.’

:::

Her father is not in for breakfast, and one of the maids tells here that there’s been a small complication in the mines, something about an inspector and some new equipment being installed. Masumi simply nods and eats quickly, eager to get out the door.

The second she’s out the mansion doors, outside the tall iron gates, Masumi breaks into a sprint, running down the grassy hillside. The path she took her first day here is too close to the village, and she can’t risk Marco coming with her, not today. The strange girl is her secret, hers to find and hers to keep.

Once she’s a ways away from the village, she slows to a walk, breathing in the salty air and thinking that the charm of it is less so now. But she sets foot onto the beach, turns the bend- and it’s as if she never had any breath to begin with, the way it’s stolen from her lungs.

The girl is there again, perched on her rock. There’s a stack of flowers from the field above next to her, and the girl is braiding them together, twisting them into a chain. She’s entirely caught up in her work, and Masumi edges closer, not wanting to startle her like the first time they had met.

Her worn shoes make soft noises on the sand, and the strange girl tenses, her head snapping to watch Masumi and her hands frozen halfway through a braid.

“Hello. My name is Masumi,” she says, and the girl stares at her blankly. Masumi summons up every bit of language Marco has taught her and tries again.

The strange girl’s eyes soften slightly, no longer quite so unsure- but then she’s gone again, pushing off into the water. Masumi runs to the shoreline this time, then beyond, up to her knees in the ocean before she admits that she’s lost sight of her. Just a bit father on, she can see the rock that the girl was sitting on, flowers still dappling its surface.

_‘Flowers,’_ Masumi thinks, _‘Next time I’ll bring flowers_.’

:::

Her father is home when she returns, and if he notices the way her shoes are still wet with saltwater he does not mention it when he greets her at the door.

“Masumi! I’m sorry I’ve been gone so long. The maids tell me you’ve been out in the village. That’s good, the more the locals like us the better it’ll be here. But here, here, take a look at this!”

He pulls a stone from behind his back. It’s a large chunk of clear crystal, and rock and clay still hangs from its edges, but Masumi can see where a shave at a rough edge would make a facet, how the diamond would take shape from the rough.

It would be beautiful, Masumi thinks, and he father smiles down at her when she tells him such. “That’s my girl, Masumi. This is the first stone we pulled from the mines, and it’s just the first one. I have a contractor out last night and let me tell you, this place is better than a gold mine. Here’s where we’re going to make a name for ourselves.”

Masumi can’t help but be caught up in the excitement. She doesn’t even protest when her father talks of sending for a tutor for her over dinner, nor does the thought of staying worry her when she goes to sleep that night.

She dreams peacefully, her thoughts filled with fragments of new language and the smell of wildflowers.

:::

The next few weeks pass by in a flutter of activity. Her father takes her to the mines and lets her see the rough diamonds in the storehouse, lets her read all the pamphlets left over by the previous owners in the main office. There’s an old book on the theory of magic sitting in one of the desk drawers, and Masumi sneaks it out before her father can see, knowing he’d think her interest foolish. The next day Marco invites her to come talk to the other children in the village with him. She introduces herself in words she’s slowly starting to understand, and the children clamor to have her attention in a way that’s almost overbearing.

Her father spends more days home than not for those few weeks, his immediate business taken care of, and they spend time together talking and looking over catalogues and newspapers from home in a way Masumi had missed.

When Masumi finally manages to sneak away to the beach, the strange girl is never there. Masumi wonders despairingly if she’d somehow managed to scare the girl away altogether. She leaves her bouquets of wildflowers at the shoreline and lets the swell of the tide carry them away, hoping the girl will come back.

It’s nearly a month before she finally returns, and this time, she’s sitting on a closer rock, one nearly in the shallows. She’s sitting quietly, as if waiting for someone, and Masumi’s hopes soar as she approaches, bouquet in hand, and the girl doesn’t flinch away.

“These are for you,” Masumi says, and the strange girl nods slowly. Masumi kicks off her shoes and makes her way over to the flat stone, knee-deep in the water. She keeps her distance, holds the bouquet at arm’s length.

The girl nods slowly again, then reaches out to take the flowers. “Thank you.” Her fingers card through them slowly, then- “You said… your name is Masumi?”

Masumi nods. The girl continues, “My name is Yuzu. I’m not supposed to stay here for very long, but…”

Yuzu thinks for a moment, twisting the stem of a flower around her finger. “I want to talk to you more.” Her head snaps up then, as if hearing something unknown to Masumi. “Can we meet again soon?”

Masumi nods enthusiastically. Yuzu smiles. “Then… I’ll see you later,” she says, and then she’s slipping back into the water, vanishing out of Masumi’s sights again. There’s only the bouquet of flowers resting on the boulder left to remind Masumi that Yuzu had, in fact, been real.

:::

Masumi’s tutor arrives the day after her second meeting with Yuzu, and Masumi’s trapped inside the entire day, twirling a pen listlessly in hand as her tutor explains the principles of mathematics to her. She wants to be outside, wants to be trading language with Marco, wants to be waiting for Yuzu on the beach. Still, her tutor drones on, and she stares out the library window and hopes she’ll have time to go into town before dinner.

In the end, she only manages to run out after dinner was served, biscuits stuffed into her pockets. She finds Marco loitering outside the town hall, and he perks up immediately as she runs to sit next to him.

“You’re late!” he says, and Masumi shrugs, offers him the biscuit.

“Sorry, she replies, “My tutor came today.”

She doesn’t tell him that she had thought about waiting for Yuzu instead of spending the day in the village anyway. They had, oddly enough, become fast friends, and Masumi doesn’t want to risk ruining it.

“Aw,” he says, “I’m jealous.” They devolve into their usual chatter from there, jumping from language to language whenever they don’t know a word. It is, Masumi thinks suddenly, the most fun she’s had for as long as she can remember.

:::

The tutor’s arrival, Masumi soon realizes, is the end of her free reign to wander and mill about as she pleases. Her weekdays are full with exercises and work tables, and her evenings are spent in the village, a splash of color in her long days in the library. At nights, she reads from the book of magic she had smuggled out from the mine office. It’s not so much a book of spells and witchcraft, she soon finds, as it is a book about meditation, of maintaining healthy bonds and using them to draw power from the pieces of magic dormant in the soul. Masumi can’t say she believes any of it, exactly, but it’s nice to dwell on in the same way fantasies are so fulfilling to read.

On weekends she goes to see Yuzu, and they’ve settled into a sort of routine- every Saturday they meet. Their discussions are nowhere as long as the ones Masumi has with Marco, but she can’t help but feel that she’s learning just as much about Yuzu from them.

It’s after a discussion on Masumi’s home- _a big, grey city, where people are modern and no one looks into the alleys. You’d hate it, she tells Yuzu_ \- when Masumi’s feeling a bit impulsive, a bit more reckless than usual, and entirely on top of the world.

“Hold out your hand,” she says, and Yuzu complies with a curious look. Masumi clasps her hands around Yuzu’s.

“Diamonds are what I love the most, and plenty do I have, but I’d throw them all away for you if it’d mean I’d stay your friend,” she says, trying to keep the form and mostly succeeding.

“What is that for?”

“It’s a spell,” Masumi replies, “If you say it with a friend, that means that you’ll always be together, no matter what happens.”

Yuzu smiles, slow and hesitant but genuine. “Okay, um… Songs are what I love the most, and many have I sang, but I’d never sing another word if it’d mean I’d stay your friend,” she says. Masumi feels something swell up then, a strange power that sparks from their clasped hands and runs up through Masumi’s veins like electricity, like pure energy given form.

Masumi gasps. Yuzu sends her another curious look. “Did it work?”

Without dropping Yuzu’s hand, Masumi nods slowly, blinking as the world is reduced to sudden spots of light and shadowy outlines, then back to color again. “Yeah, I think… I think it did.”

:::

Masumi slips away again every week like clockwork- but this particular Saturday, Yuzu is nowhere to be found, and Masumi leaves the bouquet of flowers on the shore, hoping Yuzu will see them if she comes later. On an impulse, she takes one of the white flowers and braids it into her hair the way Yuzu’s shown her. She imagines it looks as nice as it does in Yuzu’s hair, though she has the nagging suspicion that it just looks clumsy and amateurish.

She wears it back to the village proudly regardless.

Marco’s milling about on the path between her house and the village, and he runs up to her immediately, bursting with enthusiasm. “Masumi! Masumi, I was thinking-“

He stops short, as if frozen in place. Masumi watches him curiously, taking a step closer. “Marco? What is it?”

She takes another step, and Marco takes one backwards. She takes another. He continues to retreat, raising a hand slowly to point at her hair.

“Where…”  He looks as if he’s struggling to remember how to speak at a level she’ll understand, and Masumi catches the glimmer of fear in his eyes, written across the tenseness of his posture. “Where did you get that?”

Masumi touches the braid self-consciously. “The flower? Down by the beach. Why, is there something-”

Marco, seemingly over his fit of fear, runs up to her and pulls the flower from her hair none too gently, and Masumi bats him away with a cry. He crushes the white flower in hand, then drops it, crushing it underfoot.

“I’m sorry,” he says, sounding panicked, “I’m sorry! But that place… That place is bad! Cursed!”

Masumi looks up, running her fingers through the ruined braid. “What do you mean, cursed? There’s nothing wrong with it!”

With a shake of his head, Marco replies, “No. The place is fine. There is a… a…” He doesn’t know the word, clearly, and he talks around it, still sounding scared. It’s an awful emotion on him, Masumi thinks. “A bad thing lives there. It hurts people. It kills people.”

_“Yuzu would never_ ,” Masumi wants to protest, but she’s suddenly afraid that if she does, her friendship with Marco would be broken irreparably. “Oh,” she says instead, “I didn’t know.”

The effect of her words are immediate- tension immediately fades from Marco’s posture, and he lets out a long breath. “Okay,” he says, “but don’t go there again. It would be bad if you got hurt.”

“I won’t,” she replies. (But she doesn’t mean a word of it.)

:::

Marco follows her around like a lost puppy for the next few weeks- and while Masumi does genuinely enjoy being around him, it means she misses her meetings with Yuzu not just once, but three times in a row.

Writing letters to her friends back in her hometown helps to ease the tension, the thought that she’s being a bad friend to Yuzu, but it still can’t erase the dark swell of disappointment when she leaves the house on Saturday morning only to see Marco leaning back against the gates.

He’s facing the other way, and he hasn’t yet seen her open the doors- Masumi makes a snap decision and walks quickly around to the side of the house. She heads into the gardens, picking flowers from home at the stems and gathering up a new bouquet for Yuzu. The gardener had left a ladder resting on one of the walls, and Masumi is up and over it, landing lightly on the ground. She can’t take the usual path down to the beach, but she figures that if Yuzu is still waiting for her after all this time, then she can’t possibly be much angrier at her if she’s a few minutes late.

In the end, she has to avoid the path entirely, scared that Marco would manage to spot her and try to keep her away. _Yuzu is my friend too,_ she argues against an imaginary Marco, _So it’s not fair that you keep me from seeing her. How would you feel if I ignored you for her?_

Masumi wins her imaginary argument as she closes in on the beach, the sound of the waves soft and rhythmic. She lets it wash over her as she stops to add some of the new growth in the field, a new patch of red wildflowers to her bouquet. And then she hears the voice. It sings a funeral song, mournful and lonely and so full of emotion Masumi thinks that she’ll cry just from the sound of it.

Clutching the bouquet in hand, Masumi heads slowly towards the voice from the ocean. She rounds the corner on the beach, knowing who she’ll see-

Yuzu sits on a close rock, head tilted towards the sun, eyes closed as she sings. The calls of the gulls circling overhead, the sound of waves breaking on the rocks are her accompaniment. Though it’s still a language Masumi has an incomplete grasp of, she catches the words and phrases that give meaning to the melody- two lovers caught in a deadly embrace, who say their prayers into empty heavens and sink endlessly into vast and violent blue.

Masumi is crying before she can even think to try and hold her composure.

Yuzu breaks off mid-line, snapping to face Masumi in a mirror of their first meeting on the beach. But this time, Masumi thinks, Yuzu looks much, much more terrified.

“I… I’m sorry I couldn’t make it before!” Masumi says, frantic to keep Yuzu from running away again, not when they’d just started to become real friends. She brandishes the bouquet, still blinking away tears. “I brought…” -a sniffle- “these for you. They’re from my home. I thought you might like them.”

Yuzu hold out a hand for them, and Masumi walks over into the shallows to give them to her. “Thank you. They’re beautiful,” she says, though Masumi can still see that terror struggling to be subdued behind her eyes.

“I’m still sorry. I don’t want you to think that I’m going to abandon you like that again,” Masumi says, and Yuzu meets her eyes with a sad sort of surprise.

“Why?”

Masumi hadn’t realized how much pain a single word could hide before. “Because you’re my friend! We made a promise, remember?”

“Yeah, I remember,” Yuzu says, “But I don’t think I kept my end of the spell.”

With a vehement shake of her head, Masumi replies, “No, that’s not it. Your singing is… is… it’s beautiful. I’d like to hear it again sometime.”

Yuzu gives a slow nod. “Maybe sometime.”

:::

Eventually, Marco stops clinging to her on Saturdays, and Masumi feels a great burden lift from her shoulders. It would be much easier, she thinks, if Marco could put aside all the traditions and rumors perpetuated by the townspeople and the three of them could be friends together. But, Masumi rationalizes, it must be hard to put aside everything you’ve been raised to know. Even Masumi herself hadn’t wanted to move across entire continents, from the pinnacle of civilization to some back-water mining town. But before she knows it, a year has passed and she’s another year older, smuggling leftover cake out of the kitchens to split with Marco on Friday and spending an entire day talking to Yuzu on Saturday.

“Are you sure you won’t sing for me?” Masumi asks, and Yuzu shakes her head. They’re sitting together on one of the rocks in the shadows, Masumi letting her feet trail in the water, shoulder to shoulder with Yuzu.

“Not yet,” Yuzu replies, and Masumi pouts, apparently not as subtly as she had hoped. “I’m still looking for the right song.”

Masumi knocks gently against Yuzu’s shoulder, flipping the palm of her hand up, an invitation for Yuzu’s to settle over it. “Okay, fine. Then this’ll be my present instead.”

Yuzu’s palm rests over hers, and Masumi laces their fingers together. It’s simple, and Masumi thinks that she couldn’t possibly want for more.

:::

Before the year can turn again, Masumi’s fragile sort of peace shatters.

“Masumi,” her father says, “There’s been an incident. I need to go back home and manage the financials of the business there. I don’t mean to alarm you, but we need to leave immediately.”

It takes Masumi a long moment to understand just what her father means- they are home, she’s sitting at her desk now, reading the chapter of the spellbook about visualization and meditation- and then it strikes her, and she feels silly for misunderstanding in the first place.

But then she stares at the shrinking pile of letters from her friends, thinks about the dinner for Marco’s birthday, thinks about Yuzu, waiting for her at the beach week after week-

“I’ll stay here,” Masumi says, and it’s with a finality in her tone that she hopes conveys that there was never any other choice in the matter. “I’m practically an adult. Let me have some practice managing a house.”

Her father stops, for once not sure of what to say.  A moment of silence, a moment of thought, then- “I suppose you’re right, Masumi. I’ll be back in a month, all right?”

Masumi nods. “Have a safe trip,” she replies. The world hums and shivers around her, and her vision goes a pleasant, calming white for a moment, as if affirming that she had made the right choice. By time she blinks, her father has already gone from the door.

:::

Though she claims to be managing the house, Masumi’s days pass much as normal up until the day of Marco’s birthday. Masumi has the cooks bake a cake and wraps up a selection of her old books she thinks Marco might like, then heads over to his house. Half the village is clustered inside the tiny kitchen, and Masumi barely has time to hand the presents off to Marco before she loses him in the crowd.

It’s nice, in a way, to lose herself among friends for a few hours, to let the sounds of singing and merriment wash over her as she drinks fresh-squeezed juice and eats the finest food the village can produce. By the time that Marco ends up on the living room floor, opening his presents, Masumi has settled down comfortably at the other side of the room. She watches as he goes through the books, the cake, a series of new clothes and various trinkets made by other villagers, and finally, a rifle from his mother.

Masumi’s gaze sharpens as Marco’s face lights up in delight, watches with unwavering coolness as he leaps to his feet, wraps his mother up in a hug. She takes a sip of juice, averting her gaze when Marco looks over at her. It tastes suddenly sour, and she can’t avoid making a face. If Masumi catches a sliver of something dark and black behind Marco’s expression when it falls, then, well… Masumi has a few choice words for him regardless.

They don’t talk about it until after the party, when they’re lounging outside together and staring up at the stars, watching smoke from the bonfire head towards the heavens.

“You’re mad at me,” he says. He’s wise enough not to phrase it as a question.

Masumi doesn’t insult him by dancing around the point. “You got a rifle.”

Marco sits up, looks down at Masumi with a nod. “Yeah. I want to be a hunter. There’s money in it, Masumi. You know that.”

Though he says hunter, Masumi knows that’s not what he means, not really. Masumi’s seen what the hunters in this country do, seen how they take majestic animals and reduce them to cuts of meat and piles of bones to rot in the sun for the vultures. “You’d hurt animals for money? Hunting isn’t the same thing as raising them in your backyard, Marco.”

A chicken squawks from its pen, as if to prove Masumi’s point. Marco grimaces and looks away. “Yeah, well… We can’t all be rich, can we? These hunters are good. They go after things that… Things that are bad.”

Masumi sits up, then stands, her turn to tower over Marco. “Whatever. I just thought you were kinder than that.”

With that, she turns on her heel and leaves Marco alone, the heat of the bonfire fading at her back. It’s not that she objects to the killing- death and rebirth are just part of the cycle of life. But it’s the trophies, the senselessness of it all that gets to her.

She’s taking the path down to the beach before she even realizes that’s where her feet are carrying her. Yuzu won’t be there, she knows- it’s not even Saturday. But Masumi can’t stop her feet, can’t stop the way she still hopes Yuzu will be there regardless.

No, Masumi thinks, not hope. It’s something beyond hope, something that pulls her to Yuzu like a lighthouse cutting through the fog over the sea- she simply _knows_ Yuzu will be there minutes before she hears the sound of soft singing over the white noise of the waves.

It’s another funeral song, but this one is far simpler than the one she had first overhear Yuzu sing. Masumi gets the distinct impression that there should be an accompaniment to the song of unrequited love- violin, perhaps, likely piano.

The crescent moon is her only guide as she heads towards the field of wildflowers. In this hazy, soft light, the red of the flowers look almost black. Masumi gathers up a few in her hands as she listens to Yuzu wish softly for her love to return from the war, waiting at the seaside for a ship that would never return, then heads around the corner of the beach to the rocks where Yuzu is always waiting.

“It’s a beautiful song,” Masumi says as the final note fades, and Yuzu startles, turns to Masumi with that look of terror again.

_Why,_ Masumi wants to ask, _why are you so afraid of others hearing you sing?_

But there’s no time to ask- a hand grabs at her shoulder from behind, pulls her backwards with so much force that Masumi almost falls to the ground. She shrieks, turns to try and punch whoever’s hand she had just shaken off her shoulder- only to be faced with Marco, his hands pressed tight over his ears.

“We have to go!” he says, and Masumi instinctively takes a step back. “Come on! Before she enchants us!”

Masumi shakes her head. The red flowers are scattered at her feet, her hand still curled into a fist. “No. Yuzu isn’t going to hurt us, okay? She’s my friend.”

Marco’s expression shatters in an instant, falls from panicked to despair with a sudden relaxation of his features. “No,” he says, “no, no. She already has you. You’re already gone, you’re already-“

Without warming, Marco makes a sudden lunge for her wrist. Masumi slaps his hand away. They stand frozen like that for a moment, meeting each other’s confused, disbelieving stares- and then Marco is slapping his hand back to his ear and running for the village.

Masumi thinks she hears him say _‘can’t be saved_ ’ as he leaves. She turns instead to Yuzu, asking for explanation, asking for something, _anything_ -

“I’m so sorry,” Yuzu says, then disappears into the ocean again.

One second, Masumi feels hollow, the shock numbing her to the reality of the situation- if she closes her eyes, then she’ll open them again and realize that she’d just fallen asleep in Marco’s backyard. She’ll wake up- she’s already waking up, she can feel the warmth of the fire on her skin, can hear the sounds of the fire popping and crackling a few meters away-

And then the sound of the waves cuts into her thoughts, and she’s not hollow any more. She’s angry. She’s angry at Marco, at Yuzu, at the idea that no one thinks she’s important enough to keep informed-

She is angry and she is powerful and she is _righteous_ , and when she opens her eyes, the sound of the fire is no longer just in her mind. The flames dance around her feet, burn though there is nothing but sand and open air around her. Fire coils like snakes down her arms, pleasantly warm but not burning-

The moment is suddenly broken as flames start to dance atop the water next to her, and Masumi panics, the fire vanishing as if it had never existed in the first place. The world switches to monochrome for just a moment, then fades back to the dulled colors of night when she blinks again.

_Did that… happen?_ Masumi thinks, staring down at her hands. The quiet lapping of the waves is her only answer.

:::

Masumi goes out into the village the next day, spellbook tucked under her arm. The villagers move out of her way when she walks, cling to the walls when they see her turning down the street. Marco sends her another despairing glance, and Masumi can’t bring herself to return it. Instead, she just starts down the path to the beach, feeling the stares of the villagers bore into her back. She tells herself she doesn’t care.

:::

It’s Saturday, and despite the disastrous events of the night before, Yuzu is there waiting, braiding flowers into her hair. “You came,” she says, and Masumi sends her a small smile.

“OF course I did. Every Saturday, right?” She pauses. “Everyone knows now. It’s okay if you want to sing for me.”

Yuzu hesitates a second too long, so Masumi rephrases. “I want you to sing for me, Yuzu.”

“Okay,” she finally says, and Masumi hates how _resigned_ to the idea Yuzu sounds- but she sings anyway. It’s a funeral song. Somehow, Masumi isn’t surprised.

:::

Masumi comes home that evening to find her father arguing with Marco at the gate. They’re too deep in conversation to notice her- Marco has his back to her, and her father gives her only the briefest of nods as she walks up the path to the house.

“I’m telling you sir, you need to take Masumi away from this place. She’s possessed, she’s, she’s enchanted!”

Masumi’s father frowned down at Marco, and his lip twitched in that familiar way that it always does when he was trying to hide his disdain. “I’m disappointed in you. I assumed that one of Masumi’s friends would have much more sense than you.”

“I thought he did too,” Masumi interrupts, and Marco turns, gives her a cold stare. “Let’s go inside, father. I assume that we have much to discuss.”

Marco tries to grab her shoulder again, and Masumi swats his hand away. This time, it’s just anger left behind in his clenched fists. “Fine. See if I care, you witch! Burn in hell with your magic, for all I care!”

He stalks off one way as Masumi heads with her father towards the house. In a small corner of her mind that she hadn’t been aware of before all this, she feels something like a thread pull and snap. She mourns it quietly as her father explains his plans to relocate permanently back home.

She mourns it as she insists on staying here, where she’s made a life for herself, where she’s proved herself more than capable of managing the household.

She mourns it as her father makes a whole host of promises that Masumi knows he will not keep- running a telegraph line out this far, so they can stay in contact without the hassle of letters, saying he’ll visit every new year.

She mourns it when she can’t sleep that night, wondering why everything had gone so horribly wrong and as she puts her pride aside to try and think of ways to fix it-

She heads into the village the next week, finally gaining the courage to confront Marco, only to see him posing with his rifle next to a group of strange men and an ivory horn in hand. Masumi does not mourn it any more.

:::

Masumi sits next to Yuzu on one of their usual rocks, and Masumi leans her head on Yuzu’s shoulder in the companionable silence. Yuzu had just finished singing- a reprise of the first song Masumi had ever heard her sing, and Masumi feels a rush of contentment that pulses through her veins, a feeling so physical she wonders how she’d ever lived without it. She recites from the spellbook without consciously having to think about it. “I’ve told you a great many things, but secrets I do keep. I’ll tell you that I love you, if only to see you smile.”

Yuzu does smile at that- Masumi doesn’t lift her head to look, though something in her sparks, telling her that Yuzu does. But it’s not the smile that Masumi wants to see- it’s sad, it’s resigned, it’s every emotion that love shouldn’t be.

 “Someday,” Yuzu says, “you’ll stop loving me.”

Masumi lifts her head to protest, but Yuzu continues before she can say a word. “I’ve told you a great many things, but secrets I do keep. I’ll tell you I’m a siren, if only to see you free.”

Yuzu says it as if it’s supposed to be a revelation, as if it’s supposed to change a single thing-

“I knew that,” Masumi says, “I figured that out after Marco covered his ears when he saw you. And I’m not going to stop loving you. Not now, not ever. Not even if you stop singing for me. Do you know why?”

Yuzu shakes her head. In her eyes, there is hope, catching the light like the waves sparkling where the ocean meets the horizon.

“Because I’ve been in love with you since the moment I first saw you.”

In that moment, Yuzu watches Masumi as if she’d hung the sun and the moon and all the stars in the sky, like she’s the home that Yuzu keeps returning to every Saturday, like she’s something divine- “No one’s ever told me that before,” she says, and Masumi hopes that she can return even a fraction of that look back to Yuzu.

“Can I…” Yuzu starts, then stops, then lets out a long breath and starts again. “Can I kiss you?”

“Of course,” Masumi replies, then leans in for the first time.

(It’s not the last. As the years roll by, Masumi occasionally thinks to keep count- but she always forgets, always gets lost in the feeling of belonging.)

:::

Masumi dreams one night of falling, of a shot, of danger, of a funeral song-

She wakes with a gasp. She’s out of bed in an instant, before she even fully processes the implication of her dream. Yuzu is in danger. Yuzu is in danger, and Masumi races out the doors of the house, through the gates as the maids call out in worry behind her.

But there’s no time, no time- the dream fades fast from Masumi’s memory, and she runs blindly as she struggles to grasp onto the fragments, as impossible as trying to reach out and grab the wind-

The image of the cliffs on the other side of the village flash through her mind with sudden clarity, and Masumi sprints towards them. There’s a commotion there when she finally makes it, the wind howling through the town at her back, pushing her forwards, forwards-

Marco and his group of hunters stand around with their rifles trained on a woman tangled up in a net at their feet.

“Get away from her!” Masumi yells, and the hunters startle. Marco points his rifle at her.

“Masumi. Should’ve figured you’d show up,” he says, and the years have changed him. He’s older, more scarred. If he hadn’t still had that same rifle, Masumi wouldn’t have recognized him.

“I said, get away from Yuzu.” The righteous anger sparks again, starts to burn low in her gut the way it first had on the beach the first time they fought. Flames lick at her feet. The other hunters startle, and Masumi takes that as her opportunity to race between them and Yuzu, to set the triggers of their rifles aflame, melting the metal in one burst of flame.

Masumi’s never physically fought anyone, never commanded the flames again after that first time- but it comes naturally to her, as if she’s drawing on a bank of knowledge from somewhere beyond herself.

She’s fast- but Marco is faster. The shot rings out as Masumi gathers Yuzu up in her arms, the second rings out as she staggers back, towards the edge of the cliffs. Her clumsy motions send rocks toppling off the edge and into the black water below.

A third shot. Yuzu shrieks in her arms.

Masumi wants to say something, wants to do anything- but words won’t come, and her body feels inexplicably heavy, her grip strangely weak-

She doesn’t hear the fourth shot. She doesn’t feel it hit home, only feels Yuzu’s arms pull tight around her. The impact sends her staggering backwards anyway, until she runs out of solid ground and the earth crumbles beneath her feet. In the split second before they fall, Masumi catches sight of messy brown hair and dappled white feathers, a white coat and a sword-

_Yaiba_ , Masumi thinks, though the name means nothing to her. _Make it quick. Don’t let us be their trophies._

There is a long moment where eternity stretches out before them, where Masumi can see the Fates perching over their intertwined threads, ready to make the final cut-

And then they fall.

It takes maybe five seconds. Perched on the ends of eternity, Masumi finds that it feels like an entire lifetime in and of itself.

_“I told you,_ ” Masumi thinks she says, _“I told you I’d never stop loving you_.”

_“I know_ ,” she thinks Yuzu replies, _“I know._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reincarnation AU was a much cuter concept before I realized I had to have death in some form at the end of every chapter... ha... ha...


	5. And When We’ve Both Resigned Ourselves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flames envelop the world, and there's too much left unsaid. This isn't an ending that either of them would have wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for how long this took. I've scrapped and rewritten this chapter so many times and I just can't make it work, but I don't want to leave this unfinished forever. Day six will be up tomorrow.

_I tried too hard the fourth time,_

_clinging to what we’d never had_

_but_ god _i wished i’d told you_

_god, i wish i’d just_ told _you-_

 

* * *

 

Here is what Queen Hiiragi Yuzu knows.

Revolution is brewing, and she can taste it in the air, can feel it pulsing deep in the earth, an ancient beast awoken by the blood of the people that has sept into it, a tribute to the ancients. Yuzu closes her eyes, listens to the sound of waves crashing into the jagged bases of the cliffs. The sound is loud and violent, and the ocean wind carries the taste of salt and static. There’s a storm brewing over the ocean, on the continent across the sea-

Yuzu opens her eyes, and fancies she can see the empire that is the world stretching out in front of her, vast and diverse and situated entirely in the palm of her hand.

A warplane flies overhead, the sound of the engine loud over the breaking waves, and Yuzu turns away, back towards the castle, back towards the capitol building. In places far from here, far from the homeland, the world is in flames. The world is rising up to burn, and Yuzu knows her history, knows how this will end.

(It’s an ending she won’t get to write.)

:::

“What do you _mean_ we’ve lost the Southern Territories?” Masumi demands, staring down the unfortunate messenger from the communications room.

“That is, I, um, I! Was told to bring this telegram up to you now, immediately, ma’am!” the page doesn’t break his salute as he hands over the paper with a shaking hand.

Masumi opens it, scans it quickly, turning to Yuzu as she visibly tamps down her anger. “Telegram from Serena. The Southern Territories have pushed our troops past back their self-proclaimed border. They have weapons that aren’t in our intelligence.”

Yuzu waves the page out, then- “Where could they possibly have gotten them from? The Prime Minister assured me that we’d cut off all supply routes through to the front.”

Looking up from rearranging troops on the long map between them, Yuuto replies, “We did, your highness. Our intelligence must have been incomplete.”

Yuzu shakes her head. “Tell my sister to hold that line.”

Crushing the telegram in hand, Masumi replies, “Your highness! We can’t simply leave them be! If one territory escapes then they all do.”

“I’m well aware,” Yuzu replies, an unusual harshness in her tone. She hopes it carries to Masumi all the things that she needs to leave unsaid. Masumi sends her a long, lingering glance, hand still clenched around the crumpled telegraph.

Yuzu thinks she understands. “Tell my sister to hold the line. Get our intelligence on this, immediately.”

The communications agent in the room moves to code the order out, back to the front. Another page rushes into the room, trembling significantly less than the first. He salutes, hands off the telegram immediately.

Masumi dismisses him, casts the other telegraph to the side and opens the new one. Her voice is harsh when she speaks. “The Southern Territories have issued a formal declaration of independence.”

The room goes deathly quiet. A rebellion has become a war. Underground foreign influence can now become outright alliances, and oh, Yuzu thinks, how many a country would like to see the world’s last empire fall.

“We send reinforcements,” Masumi says, “And redouble our efforts in subduing the Southern Territories.”

No one has the heart to argue. Yuuto pushes pieces from the homeland towards the Southern Front, the sound of pieces scraping along the map loud in the quiet.

:::

Yuzu isn’t allowed to walk the streets of the capitol alone. She dons a cloak and walks them anyway. Masumi will be furious with her when she returns, she knows, but she does no good cooped up in the castle and the government buildings, isolated from the people, from her subjects.

The streets are neat and tidy, buildings conjoined and even heights beyond the sidewalk. Automobiles rattle down the side street every once and a while. Their occupants laugh and smile, and it is so far from everything that Serena has told her of the Southern Front that Yuzu wonders if they’re not in different worlds altogether.

A group of children brush past her, laughing and holding sticks like swords. A sudden flash of misplaced nostalgia runs through Yuzu, like remembering a dream she had in her childhood. A flutter of immaterial wings and a sword that broke through the sky, the warm taste of soup and the distinct image of looking up at an impossibly wide sky, Masumi at her side as they watched the falling stars.

It hits her so strongly that Yuzu falters mid-step, her breath pulled from her lungs. She reaches out desperately for the fading images, for the comfort of those childhood dreams- but then they’re gone, fuzzy at the edges and still images, colors overly saturated.

A hand claps her on the shoulder, and Yuzu startles, turning fast and pulling her hood further over her head, but it’s only Masumi standing there, looking stern and imposing as ever. “We need to go back before anyone notices you,” she says, and Yuzu allows Masumi to take her hand and lead her back to the castle just off the center of the capitol.

She’s being sheltered, she knows as Masumi pulls her back through the gates, turns to face her again. She’s being sheltered and she hates every moment of it-

“Please,” Masumi says, squeezing Yuzu’s hand almost imperceptibly tighter, “Stay safe.”

And then, Yuzu thinks, watching the telltale waver in Masumi’s eyes, she can’t bring herself to hate it at all.

:::

(In the days of her childhood, before the accident, before she had been thrust onto the political stage, when horse-drawn carriages still clattered down cobblestone streets and the idea of humans taking to the sky was a notion of foolish dreamers and storytellers, Yuzu would play in the castle grounds with Masumi and Serena.

They’d play games of knights around round tables and have heroic journeys across the grounds, the fountain their ocean, the apple tree their forest. Yuzu was always the princess, and Masumi was always her knight, and Serena the warrior queen who would never quite monologue the way Yuzu insisted warrior queens should.

They had a thousand scenarios, a hundred different worlds that they cycled through at random- Yuzu remembers many of them, some better than others. But the one she remembers best is a scene from a cloudy day, where rain was threatening in but they stayed out anyway, enthralled by a world of magic spells and living flowers.

She was the lost princess and Masumi was the wandering knight, and they stood tall together, battling Serena with sticks for swords- and even two against one, being beaten badly.

But the heroes, of course, had to win, and Masumi got the honor of delivering the final blow, Serena fake-dying at Masumi’s stab. It was all very dramatic, the final chapter of that day’s journey, but that’s not the moment Yuzu remembers best. The moment Yuzu remembers is the downpour that started immediately after, and their shrieks as they ran back to the castle at full speed.

She remembers Masumi trying to shield her from the rain with her jacket, remembers their laughter as they fell into the foyer, soaking wet despite it all.

She remembers thinking that she’d have liked to stay in that moment forever.)

:::

Masumi starts avoiding Yuzu outside of the war rooms, and Yuzu is left entirely bewildered, unsure if she’s only imagining things or if Masumi is doing it intentionally- but it also leaves Yuzu with more of an opportunity to sneak back outside the castle grounds, which she does with increasing frequency.

There’s something wrong in the air, something growing in the streets that Yuzu knows wasn’t there in the months before. Yuuto averts his gaze when she asks, and she hasn’t been able to speak to Masumi in days outside of business. And so she takes it upon herself to find out what the others won’t tell her.

Automobiles don’t rattle down the streets any longer, not with the rations, and children don’t run down the streets with quite so much energy. Instead, they stick to the walls and play with cards, hang around in alleys and talk, pass around a single cigarette that they’d stolen from their parents’ stores.

No one spares the bundled up woman on the street a second glance, so she wanders aimlessly, hoping for some sort of sign from the heavens, some sort of divine revelation that will present her with a solution where everyone wins-

It doesn’t matter that the world doesn’t work that way, Yuzu thinks, because the world is supposed to be a kinder place.

She turns down a street, head still in the clouds, only to realize halfway through that she’s turned down an alley instead. There at the end, lit like a spotlight by the midday sun is a piece of graffiti scrawled across the wall in chipping white paint-

_“God Kill the Queen, God Save the People”_.

:::

“You’re doing something stupid, aren’t you?” Serena asks the next time she calls, sounding tired. Even so, the exasperated, scolding edge to her voice is still there. Yuzu wonders sometimes if Serena isn’t the older twin after all.

“I’ll be fine,” Yuzu says, “I promise. You just make sure you come back safe, okay?”

Serena sighs. “Please be careful, Yuzu.”

“I said I promised,” Yuzu fake-pouts, hoping it brings a smile to Serena’s face. Then, more seriously, “You’re the one coming back from the front. You be safe too.”

:::

The streets burn below them, and Yuzu can hear the sound of the rallying cry echoing down them, can hear the sound of shots outside her door.

Masumi stands at the door like a castle guard, tense and on edge, glance flicking between the door and Yuzu as if she’d disappear if Masumi took her eyes off her for too long.

“Do you remember?” Yuzu asks, and Masumi’s next look is more curious than worried for the first time in a long, long time. “When we used to play as children?”

Masumi nods. Encouraged, Yuzu continues, “I think my favorite was the one where you were my knight, and we built a whole kingdom together. Serena was the Queen of the neighboring country, remember?”

The look Masumi sends her is impossibly sad for just an instant, then smothered by something seeming close to resigned. “I remember,” she says, and Yuzu hums, but it’s drowned out by a commotion outside the door, shots down beneath them.

“I need to get the rest of the guard,” Masumi says, urgency rising in her usually calm voice. Yuzu reaches out to grab her shoulder, shakes her head softly.

“No,” she replies, “All I need here with me now is a knight.”

:::

Here is what Queen Hiiragi Yuzu does not know- she does not know that revolution is brewing in the capitol, in the alleys that no one lingers in for too long, in the gambling dens and the speakeasies and factories that dapple the edges of the town, relics of a history long passed.

She does not know that there is talk of the rebels taking to arms, that the streets are places that she must no longer go, lest a young revolutionary seize the chance to make history, lest a new chapter of history dawn on a street named after one of her ancestors.

Masumi fears that she knows they’re fighting a war where the tide has turned against them. They’ve lost their Southern Territories already, Masumi knows, despite how much she wants to try and take them back. Their territories to the east are negotiating for foreign support, and Masumi watches the clock tick away as she waits in the command room with Yuuto, waiting for Serena to update them on the situation.

“If only,” Masumi says, “There wasn’t a threat of rebellion in the capitol.”

Yuuto looks up suddenly. “There’s threat of rebellion in the capitol?”

Masumi stares. “I’m sure you’re aware of it. It’s the reason you’ve been allotting supplies to the local police force, isn’t it? Yuzu’s not here, we can speak of it. I’ve just avoided it so I don’t make her worry. It’s the last thing she needs right now.”

“Yes,” Yuuto says, nodding slowly, “that’s right.”

A call comes in on the secure line and Masumi rushes to answer, the brief conversation forgotten. It’s a decision she’ll regret for a long, long time after the fact.

:::

The territories in the east officially have foreign backing, and at this point, Masumi thinks, pacing the length of the small room over incessantly, they may as well have declared war on the entire world.

Yuuto watches her with concern, running over a few lines of the letter he’d received, then looking back at her with concern. “You might want to take a walk,” he says, “The air in here is stale.”

It’s a good idea. Masumi nods, then leaves, doesn’t slow her pace until she’s well into the heart of the capitol and her legs are starting to ache. She’s on a small road she recognizes as a shortcut towards where some of the largest churches in the city sit on opposite corners from one another- and, as if on cue, the bells begin to ring in the distance. It’s not long before a small flood of people start down the street, most on foot. Masumi follows the flow of the crowd, no real destination in mind.

It’s the most relaxed she’s been in weeks, she’s startled to find, letting the mindless chatter of the families around her fade to white noise. She walks with them to the edge of the residential district, then goes to make a turn onto a street that will eventually wind its way back to the castle, only to freeze in her tracks a few steps down it.

There’s an alley not a few feet away, and voices trail from it, long and merry and clearly not quite aware of what they were saying. If it weren’t for what they had just said, Masumi would have turned up her nose at the drunkards and their likely stolen alcohol-

If it weren’t for what they were continuing to say.

“You’re so full of it. No one’s gonna do anything. Long live the Queen and all that,” the first man says. Masumi stops and puts her back against the wall, loitering around casually, checking her watch as if waiting for someone.

“The Queen’s practically dead already,” the second man replies, “And we all know the second sister’s going to get herself killed in the fight… One way or another.”

They share a chuckle at that. A chill runs down Masumi’s spine.

“So? You joining us or what?”

A brief shuffle behind her. Masumi ducks her head as the men stagger out of the alley, the smell of alcohol clinging to them far less than she had first thought.

“To a goddamn democracy,” the first man says.

“Over the head of the Queen,” replies the second man like a promise. They don’t notice Masumi as she simmers with carefully-contained rage, don’t notice as she tails them back to their homes and takes note of the addresses.

_‘Treason charges for the both of them_ ,’ Masumi thinks, then sends the information down the proper channels.

Banter or not, Masumi throws herself into quelling the talk of rebellion in the capitol at every turn. She sends bloodhounds after every rumor, throws men in jail for treason charges that will go to court in due time. She means to suppress the budding talk of domestic revolution by anything short of suspending freedom of speech.

It doesn’t work.

Arms caches can be raided, supplies can be requisitioned under the pretext of needing supplies for one front or another- but talk is still free and discontent and unease fill the street like oil, waiting for the spark.

Masumi pulls the hood of her cloak over her head as she pushes into the abandoned warehouse at the edge of the city, blending in seamlessly with the wary crowd. They pack into the warehouse floor, so close even Masumi feels like she’ll run out of air. A stage is set at the front, and a young man stands on it, proud and tall and bursting with confidence-

And he, Masumi realizes with sudden dread, will be that spark.

He speaks. Masumi can’t hear the words. The crowd around her surges, forcing her along, pushing her forwards, forwards. The young man unveils a portrait of Yuzu and Serena, then holds flame to the frame, sets it ablaze with a cry.

In this sea of cheers, of screams, where confidence and the thrill of a rebellion breaks over the heads of the people, Masumi drowns, frozen in the sudden realization of what she’d been trying to deny all along-

This is a war that can’t be won.

:::

The thing about Yuzu, Masumi knows, is that she never remembers their childhood stories right. She talks of days that Masumi spent pretending to be Yuzu’s knight, where Serena was the Queen and their worst battles were fought with no more than sticks and punches thrown far too soft.

She doesn’t remember that it was always Masumi the princess and Yuzu her champion. She doesn’t remember that it was always Serena that won their little games, or that Masumi and Yuzu were too stubborn to ever separate.

In retrospect, Masumi thinks, perhaps that’s why they’re in this situation in the first place.

_“All I need here with me now is a knight,_ ” Yuzu tells her.

_“I love you_ ,” Masumi wants to say back. But it’s something she can’t say here, not now.

The door behind her opens. She knows who it is before she even turns to look.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Yuuto says, and Masumi couldn’t have hated him more if she’d tried, because she knows that he means every word of it.

She draws her handgun regardless, ready to shoot the second Yuuto tried to get past her, made a single move towards Yuzu-

She doesn’t register the gunshot until she’s crumpling over the boudoir, clutching at her chest with a hand rapidly losing strength.  She faintly hears Yuzu scream, her voice fading in and out, her vision spinning dangerously as she clutches onto the dresser. Masumi had never even noticed the sniper standing in the shadows behind Yuuto.

And god, she thinks, how foolish protectiveness has made her.

“Don’t… Let her get hurt,” she forces out. She’s not sure how much she manages to say, but Yuuto meets her eyes.

“I promise,” he says, “I won’t let them kill her.”

There’s a flurry of activity. Masumi’s vision goes blurry, and everything loses color. The last thing she catches sight of is Yuzu, being pulled out of the room, reaching back out to her, saying something Masumi can’t hear-

Her last thought is that this can’t be the way it ends. It can’t, it can’t it _can’t_ -


	6. Here is What We’ll Shatter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuzu heads up to her family's lakehouse for spring break. But there's a relic of a life that she only remembers in dreams waiting for her there, and something is going to shatter, whether they want it to or not.

_You don’t love me at all our next life,_

_And perhaps it’s what I’m due._

_But you won’t let me think that way,_

_For right here we’ll shatter fate._

* * *

 

Yuzu’s hair blows wild in the warm spring wind as she drives the convertible down the empty road. The afternoon sun glints off the crimson body of the car, and rock music blares from the speakers- Yuugo’s pick, today.

“Come on, Yuzu,” Yuugo says, “Can’t you drive any faster?”

Yuzu sighs, takes a hand off the wheel to push back a bit of hair that had gotten plastered to her forehead. “My car, my rules, Yuugo.”

“But-“

“Well,” Yuzu says, “If you hadn’t trashed Rin’s bike…”

“Shut up!” Yuugo crosses his arms, immediately on the defensive.

“Rin is still mad at you, by the way,” Yuzu says, and Yuugo groans.

“I’m fixing it! I’m fixing it!”

They pull up at the Hiiragi home, and Rin waves at them from the garage, standing very pointedly next to the trashed motorcycle, its front wheel hanging off and handlebars bent in a way that they were very blatantly not supposed to. Bags are sitting at her feet, and a key dangles from her fingers.

Yuugo immediately vaults over the door to help Rin with the bags, and Yuzu looks up at the rearview mirror, pulling her hair into pigtails. It’s a good day- her reflection mirrors her actions, and she gets her hair looking halfway decent again.

Rin hops into the back seat, leaning over to dangle the key in front of Yuzu’s face. “So, guess who’s the best sister ever and got the key to the summer house off dad?”

“Thanks,” Yuzu said, and Rin smiles. Yuugo, meanwhile, jumps into the front seat again.

“Best spring break ever,” he declares, and Rin just keeps on smiling, tucking the key into her purse.

“You,” she says, “have no idea.”

:::

The Hiiragi summer house is far up the coast, a day’s drive if they take the highway. The spring is mild and warm this year, so Yuzu leaves the top down as she drives them north. They waste the time away listening to Yuugo’s CDs and talking absently among themselves- it seems that the excitement for their trip is making Rin forget she’s supposed to be mad at Yuugo, and she laughs at something he said that Yuzu didn’t quite catch.

They should have left Saturday morning, Yuzu thinks as the sun sets fully under the horizon and the starts start to creep into the sky, still faint. They’re still hours from their destination, and they haven’t even stopped for dinner.

Signs for a rest stop come up on the right, and Yuzu pulls of the highway, parks the car in the lot and pulls up the top. “Come on,” she says, “I’m starving.”

As they go to enter the fast food complex, Rin snatches the car keys from Yuzu’s hand. “My turn to drive,” she says, and Yuzu sends her a thankful glance- she doesn’t even want to think about Yuugo driving. It isn’t that he’s bad- in fact, the problem is the exact opposite. Yuugo is such a good driver that he starts to think it’s a good idea to start showing off, and then, well…

That’s how motorcycles end up ruined.

Yuzu shakes her head and orders her food. They eat fast, eager to get to the summer house. Yuugo throws a fry at Rin and manages to get it in her blouse. Rin pulls it out and tosses it back without flinching, and Yuzu sighs and steps in before the Rin decides to remember that she’s supposed to be mad at Yuugo.

As they shuffle out the doors, Yuzu catches sight of her reflection watching her in the door. Her reflection’s hair isn’t up in pigtails anymore.

:::

They pull up to the summer house at two in the morning, hyped up on sugar and fighting off sleep. Rin turns off the car, and Yuzu tosses their bags out to Yuugo, gathering hers up in her arms, then steps outside.

The night air is colder in the north, and Yuzu wishes that she’d worn a cardigan that morning. The summer house itself is just as it’s always been, a small, quaint house located by a heavily-wooded lakeside.

They head up the three steps onto the porch and Rin unlocks the door, fumbling slightly with the key in the dark. The air inside the house is stale, and there’s dust covering the plastic on the furniture.

They bypass all of that for the stairs at the other side of the entryway, heading straight up. They’re greeted with the sight of one long hallway, doors lining each side- three on the left, two on the right.

“You can stay in the main bedroom,” Yuzu says to Yuugo, pointing to the one closest on the left. “Just take the plastic off the bed and you should be good.”

“Thanks,” Yuugo says, then heads off into his room. Rin takes hers, the first door on the right, and Yuzu heads to hers, the second one on the right. She turns on the light first thing, then heads to the window to open that next, taking a long breath of fresh air.

She can hear Rin start the shower in the adjoining bathroom- _and really, Rin? At two in the morning?_ she thinks- so she starts to take the plastic cover over the bedsheets. She’s tempted to just go to sleep as she is- very, very tempted- but in the end, she goes to her bags and searches for her pajamas.

But as she unzips the bag that they were meant to be on top of, something else is there instead. It’s a small hand mirror, the one that she had found in a box in the attic of this very summer house almost three years ago now. It was supposed to be sitting on her bedside table at home.

Yuzu picks it up, watching her reflection, then stands up, knocks on the door to the adjoining bathroom. “Rin! Did you pack my hand mirror?”

“Huh? No, I didn’t touch your bags!” Rin yells back, “Sorry! If you told me earlier, I guess I forgot about it.”

Yuzu stared down at the back of the mirror, faded roses and vines engraved into its surface. Yuzu hadn’t packed it, and if Rin hadn’t touched it, then…

Yuzu sighs, flips the mirror over to meet her reflection’s red eyes. “How did you get here?” she asks, but there’s no response, as usual. Yuzu just shakes her head and sets the mirror down on the bedside table, then goes to change.

Rin will be in the shower for ages, Yuzu knows, so she just resigns herself to going to sleep as is. She’s asleep the moment her head hits the pillow.

:::

“Wake up!” Rin says, and Yuzu blinks awake, still groggy.

“What time is it?” she asks.

Rin’s reply comes in a cheerful chirp. “Seven. Now come on! If you want to go for breakfast in town, Michio’s place stops serving at nine.”

Yuzu groans and pulls the sheet up back over her head. “Go wake up Yuugo, then.”

“Nope!” Rin replies, still cheerful, “Technically, I’m still supposed to be mad at him.” Rin pulls the blanket down from over Yuzu’s head. “Come on, Yuzu.”

Yuzu forces herself to sit up. “Fine, I’m awake. We can go to Michio’s for breakfast, but you have to wake Yuugo up.”

Rin makes a face, but Yuzu knows she’s already mostly forgiven him. “Come on, Rin. You’re already dressed, and I need to take a shower, since you were hogging it last night.”

“Okay, fine,” Rin replies, “but hurry up! I don’t want to miss the crepes!”

Rin leaves the room through the main door, and Yuzu’s left staring vacantly after her for a few moments, still trying to force herself fully awake. Rin has always been a morning person, but today she seems particularly peppy, and Yuzu can’t say why.

In the end, Yuzu just shakes her head and grabs her hairbrush from her bag, running it through her hair as she went into the adjoining bathroom. A quick glance in the mirror, trying to get a sense of how she looks- but her reflection is being particularly unhelpful today, and there’s not even a reflection there to see.

Yuzu groans, then goes back into her room to get her toothbrush instead.

:::

By the time she’s out of the shower, Rin has knocked on the door twice, telling her to hurry up. _“Have you ever tried to do your makeup with no reflection?”_ Yuzu thinks back bitterly, but Rin’s helped her out one too many times with this very problem for her to complain. In the end, she just lets Rin in and has her do it, much to Rin’s obvious delight.

“Done!” Rin says, and Yuzu trusts that it looks good- Rin’s always had the better eye for color between the two of them. “Now come on, let’s go!”

Yuugo is waiting at the bottom of the stairs for them, and they pile into the car, Yuugo in the back this time as Yuzu drives them into the center of the small vacation town that their summer house is a few minutes away from.

All the buildings are washed-out yellow brick, and flags of various colors fly outside each shop and restaurant. Potted plants and flowers decorate every window, and the heat of the early morning is almost like that of early summer- Yuzu’s wearing nothing but a tank top and a skirt and still feels warm.

Just off the main road is a candy shop, Michio’s family restaurant right next door. Yuzu pulls into the parking lot just after eight in the morning, and the three of them file in. As usual, it’s excellent, and Yuzu suggest that they spend the rest of the day wandering around town, which ends up being more fun than she had imagined, considering they get lost twice and don’t end up buying a single thing the entire day.

:::

They spend the rest of the night watching b-list horror movies in the lounge, Yuzu and Rin sprawled across the couch, Yuugo reclining on the floor in front of them. They stuff themselves with pizza and popcorn, and by the time the last blood-splattered entry on Rin’s list is done, the three of them are practically falling asleep to the sounds of chainsaws and over-the-top screaming.

Yuzu extracts herself from the couch first. “I think I’m going to sleep, guys.”

Picking himself up off the ground and stretching, Yuugo replies, “Yeah, me too. See you tomorrow. Today. Whatever.”

The three of them shuffle their way upstairs, and Yuzu makes sure to claim the bathroom first. When she turns on the light, the first thing she sees is the red in the mirror- red letters are written backwards on the mirror in what looks like blood written with shaky hands.

Yuzu rolls her eyes, then knocks in Rin’s door. “Very funny, Rin. ‘ _Stay with me_.’ Very original. I’m sure our summer house is suddenly haunted by a demon now. So scary.”

Rin opens the door, looks at Yuzu with confusion, then looks over at the mirror. “What are you talking about? I didn’t do that.”

“Yeah, like you didn’t try this when we were kids.”

Rin looks like she’s about to protest, but Yuzu cuts her off with a pointed look. “You wrote in nail polish on the mirror then hid under my bed and grabbed my ankles before I went to sleep. I screamed and almost kicked you in the face on accident.”

With a sheepish laugh, Rin replies, “Yeah, sorry… But I promise, I didn’t do that. So if you’re the one trying to freak me out here, it’s not going to work.”

“It’s not me,” Yuzu says, but Rin is already shutting the door. Yuzu shakes her head, then grabs a paper towel from the side of the counter and wets it, moving to rub away the fake blood.

Yuzu makes one pass. It doesn’t come off.

Yuzu tries again. Nothing happens.

Yuzu scratches at the backwards ‘s’ in ‘stay’ with one of her nails, trying to see if she can peel it off instead- but the only thing she finds is the flat surface of the mirror. The blood, somehow, is on the other side, Yuzu realizes- and then her reflection is back in the mirror, staring at her impassively, and Yuzu leaps back on instinct.

Realizing it’s just her wayward reflection and not something out to get her, Yuzu lets out a long sigh and hopes Rin hadn’t heard the commotion. “You could maybe not do that,” Yuzu says, dropping the paper towel in the trash, knowing her reflection couldn’t respond.

She reaches for her toothbrush on the counter in front of the mirror, and freezes halfway there as her reflection moves to mimic her action. The tips of her fingers are the same bloody red as her eyes.

Yuzu stares at her reflection for a long, long moment. When she blinks, her reflection is gone again, but the words above her head have changed-

_‘You can’t leave,_ ’ it now says in writing much less shaky than before.

Yuzu takes a long breath, then brushes her teeth and turns off the light. She’s asleep the moment her head hits the pillow.

:::

Yuzu’s first thought when she wakes up is that she’s starving, followed by a sudden hope that the bloody writing on her mirror isn’t still there. Her reflection- however little it resembles her- won’t hurt her, of that much Yuzu is sure. But it’s never acted up this way before, and perhaps it’s just the influence of Rin’s horror movies, but Yuzu’s mildly worried that this might turn out to be something dangerous.

Somehow, though, she doesn’t think that it’s really out to hurt her.

Yuzu heads to the bathroom- the bloody writing is gone, and her reflection is staring back at her, mirroring her expressions and actions. Yuzu hasn’t had a real reflection for nearly three years, not since she’d found the antique hand mirror in the attic of their summer house and had the misfortune of looking into it.

“You’re not going to hurt me, right?” Yuzu asks the girl in the mirror, but, as usual, there’s no reaction. She gets ready quickly, heading downstairs to find where Yuugo had put the food.

She heads down the stairs and rounds the corner into the kitchen to find Yuugo munching on toaster pastries straight out of the box. Beside him, Rin looks like she’s seriously contemplating doing the same.

“Where,” Yuzu asks with a sinking feeling, “Is the rest of the food?”

“I forgot it,” Yuugo says around a mouthful of toaster pastry, and Yuzu groans, goes to check the fridge anyway. It’s empty, save a single pomegranate that Yuzu distinctly remembers buying last winter break.

She shuts the door on it. The pantry is in a similarly dismal state, and Yuzu goes to grab the keys from where she left them on the side table. “Come on,” she says, “Let’s go get some real food. There’s a supermarket in town.”

“Thank goodness,” Rin says, pushing away the box of pastries. Yuugo shrugs and grabs another one for the road, and Yuzu just wonders why she had ever thought that this would be a good idea in the first place.

:::

They have free reign over the supermarket- ‘You want it, you pay for it,’ Yuzu says, and they all grab baskets and run off to their respective aisles. Yuzu grabs some fruit, then heads over to the frozen section, knowing none of them are going to have the patience to cook anything besides potentially pasta. She’s just about to walk out of the aisle when there’s a small commotion behind her, and the sound of small objects hitting the ground with metallic clinks-

Yuzu turns back. There in the center of the aisle is a small pile of coins. No one else is in sight, so Yuzu goes back to check them. They’re old, that much Yuzu knows, but they’re in a language she doesn’t know how to read, so she can’t make a better guess as to when and where they’re from.

She turns the coins over in her hands a few times, trying to figure out how they’d appeared here. She stuffs them into her purse, then turns to leave the aisle for real. She doesn’t miss the way her reflection watches her from the sheen of the freezer doors.

:::

They go to the lakefront that afternoon. “You have a lakehouse,” Yuugo says, “So we’re going to the lake.”

It’s still too cold to go swimming, and none of them had bothered to pack swimsuits, but they walk along the shoreline anyway. Yuugo suggests renting a boat, and Rin glares, and he wisely doesn’t mention driving any sort of vehicle in Rin’s presence again.

It’s a nice, easy sort of fun, and the hours pass by quickly as they speak of everything and nothing all at once. Yuzu, coins and hand mirror out of sight, almost forgets about the strange incidents with her reflection entirely.

That is, until Yuugo and Rin get into a good natured argument and Rin loses her balance, falling straight into the lake with a shriek. They’re only near the shallows, and Rin only falls in halfway, but she looks disoriented for a second too long, and Yuzu is immediately worried.

“Are you okay?” Yuzu asks, stepping into the water to lend her sister a hand. Rin takes it, looking down in dismay at her sopping clothes.

“Yeah,” she says, back to normal, “But I think I want to go back and change now.”

The sun is starting to set in the sky, sending the colors of the lake dark but beautiful against the orange-streaked sky. Yuzu’s reflection looks up at her with eyes dyed in the bloody color of the setting sun- not this one, not here, but one ages ago, one she remembers with a sudden pang of nostalgia, one-

“Yuzu? Are you coming?” Rin says, already a few paces ahead, and Yuzu comes back to herself with a tiny gasp.

“Coming!” she says, then jogs the few paces between them. She settles back into step with Rin and Yuugo, unable to remember why there’s a tiny pinprick of unease working its way towards her heart.

:::

Yuugo picks the movies that night, and it’s a mix of so-bad-they’re-good sci-fi movies with a whole selection of Yuugo’s underrated favorites that even Yuzu has to admit are actually pretty decent by the time the credits roll on the final one.

“I mean,” Yuugo says, huddled next to Rin on the couch, “I’m not saying we should try and make a mockup of a perpetual motion device for our physics project, but…”

Rin rolls her eyes. “How about instead of trying to do something that may or may not actually be possible for our physics final, you _fix my bike_ first.”

Yuugo recoils with a grimace. “Uh, yeah. I, uh… After break, I’ll uh-“

“I know you will,” Rin says, then stands up and stretches. “Well, I’m going to sleep. It’s already three am, and you’re all ruining my sleep schedule.”

Rin disappears into the foyer and up the stairs, leaving Yuzu and Yuugo to gather up their dinner plates, long forgotten on the coffee table. Yuugo moves to take the plates from her hands. “I’ll do it,” he says, and Yuzu sends him a grateful glance before heading upstairs, praying that Rin isn’t in the shower-

Rin is standing at the top of the stairs, motionless. Yuzu rolls her eyes. “I thought we went over this already. I’m not going to try and scare you, you’re not going to try and scare me. Though hey, I bet if we teamed up, we could scare Yuugo into doing anything.”

Rin takes a slow step down the stairs. Her face is blank. Yuzu finds herself taking an unconscious step back. “Hey, Rin? Come on, okay, you win, you’re scaring me.”

Rin take another step down. Yuzu’s back hits the wall where the stairs take an abrupt turn to the left. “Rin? Rin? You win, okay? You win!”

She stops descending the staircase. She stares at Yuzu with hollow eyes, amber glowing dimly in the faint light from below, where Yuugo is still in the kitchen. “Say something, Rin,” Yuzu says.

Rin opens her mouth slowly, forms words with great concentration. When her voice finally comes out, it’s creaking and old, as if she doesn’t know how to use it. “Stay. You need. To stay.”

“None of us need to stay,” Yuzu shoots back, “We could all leave right now. You won’t hurt me. You won’t try and stop us.”

Rin suddenly darts forward, inhumanly fast, and Yuzu doesn’t have time to dodge out of the way as Rin grabs her wrist and hisses, “You need to stay. You need to stay you need to stay, if you leave you-“

There’s a glint of light, and Yuzu catches sight of the mirror in Rin’s free hand. Yuzu reaches out and snatches it from her grasp, and the change is immediate- Rin blinks and looks over at Yuzu, disoriented for a moment, then smiles, back to her usual self. “You left your mirror in the bathroom,” she says, and Yuzu just nods.

“Night,” Rin says, bounding back up the few steps to her room and disappearing inside.

“Goodnight,” Yuzu calls to her retreating back, then looks slowly down into the mirror, for the first time afraid of what she’ll see- but there’s nothing but a blurry outline where Yuzu’s reflection should be, and she lets her hand drop to her side.

Maybe, she thinks, the girl who’d stolen her reflection isn’t quite as harmless as she had first thought.

:::

Yuzu sleeps fitfully, haunted by dreams she doesn’t remember when she wakes up. Light streams through the blinds, and Yuzu rolls over, checking her bedside clock- noon. Rin must be dead tired, Yuzu thinks, if she let us sleep in this long.

It takes a long moment for Yuzu to realize just how cold it is in her room. Her bare feet touch the cold wood floor, and Yuzu instinctively pulls them back up on the bed, looking over at the open window. As if on cue, a cool breeze blows through, rustling the blinds.

Yuzu steels herself and races over to the window, pulling the blinds up and shutting the window- only to stare out at the world of white that greets her. She blinks. The snow is still there.

“This is impossible,” Yuzu says quietly, “It was almost summer out yesterday. How did it drop below freezing in less than a day?”

Yuzu throws on a sweater and the sole pair of pants she had packed, then heads downstairs, drawn out by the smell of melting cheese.

“Hey,” Rin says from the kitchen, sitting on one of the counter stools, her hands wrapped around a mug of hot chocolate, “So, this is weird.”

“Yeah,” Yuugo says, stirring what Yuzu leans over to find is a pot of macaroni and cheese with more vigor than necessary.

Yuzu sits down at the counter next to Rin, who pours her a mug of hot chocolate. “I don’t get it,” Rin says, waving one hand, the hand of her oversized sweater flopping comically, “The weather report literally says that it’s over freezing outside right now. Does this feel like over freezing?”

Snow starts to fall then, and Rin looks at it and sighs.

“Guess we’re not going outside, then,” Yuugo says with no small amount of disappointment, and Rin hops off her stool, grabs her school bag from one of the kitchen chairs.

She lifts a few books out, and Yuzu groans, recognizing them. “Good thing I brought our homework.”

Yuugo groans. “Rin! It’s _break_. I came on this trip to _not_ do my homework.”

“Fine,” Rin replies, “don’t do any of your homework. But I’m studying for the World History test today and only today, and if you want my help, I’m not doing anything for you later.”

“But I don’t have a-“

“We’re in the _same class_ , Yuugo,” Rin shoots back before Yuugo can even finish his sentence, and he just groans.

Meanwhile, Yuzu sips at her hot chocolate, trying to figure out if the sudden snow has anything to do with the strange turn in behavior that the girl who’s stolen her reflection has taken. This goes on for several minutes, until the scent of something harsh and bitter suddenly breaks through the sweet smell of the hot chocolate. “Yuugo,” Yuzu says, “Did you just burn our food?”

“Oh, crap!” Yuugo yells, then rushes to try and save the burned cheese. Yuzu follows him, looking down at the burnt mess in despair.

“Michio’s?” Rin suggests, and Yuzu and Yuugo nod in sync.

:::

They pile into Yuzu’s car, the top very firmly up, and Yuzu drives them through the snowstorm to Michio’s in town. They’re lucky with the spots- there’s an open one right in front of the candy store beside Michio’s.

A familiar face waves from inside the window, and Yuzu waves Yuugo and Rin ahead as she ducks into the candy store.

“Sora!” Yuzu calls, and Sora waves from where he’s perched on a stool behind the counter.

“Long time no see, Yuzu!” he says, then immediately, “So, did you bring the snow with you?”

Yuzu groans and thinks that she probably did. They exchange small talk as Yuzu walks around the store, picking out various sweets and candies before returning to the front counter.

“Ah,” Sora says, waving a hand, “Just take them.”

“No,” Yuzu says, reaching into her pockets and dumping a pile of coins onto the counter, “I can’t just take them, Sora. We go over this every time.”

With a roll of his eyes, Sora gathered up the coins, only to do a double-take and look them over. “Uh, Yuzu? I can’t take these.”

“Why no-“ Yuzu starts, then stops when she realizes just what coins she had given Sora- the strange coins from the grocery store.

“Yeah,” he replies, pushing them back over to Yuzu’s side of the counter, “these things? This country doesn’t even exist anymore.”

“Oh,” Yuzu says for lack of better response, and then Rin is in the doorway, trying to wave Yuzu out. They go to lunch at Michio’s, and for a moment, Yuzu forgets.

:::

And then they’re back at the summer house studying, and Yuzu remembers.

“Hey,” Yuugo says, pointing down at a picture in their history textbook, “Doesn’t this look like you?”

Rin looks over, then looks at Yuzu, then looks back down at the picture again. “Huh,” she says, “Yuzu, this Queen looks just like you.”

“Yeah, sure she does,” Yuzu says, then stops and stares down at the reprinted photograph. A woman with the exact same face as her stares back. No, Yuzu thinks, not the same. The woman in the photograph is older, sadder, wears responsibility like a weight on her shoulders and stands as if she knows there are no more choices left in the world.

“ _You’re her_ ,” her reflection in the window says to her, and Yuzu isn’t sure if she hears it for real or if paranoia is finally settling in.

Then Yuzu’s gaze flickers to the other women in the photograph- another with a similar face- the Queen’s younger twin, the caption provides- and then-

And then-

“Excuse me,” Yuzu says, stands abruptly. Rin and Yuugo cast searching glances at her back, but Yuzu can do nothing but ignore them as she heads upstairs and turns into her room, grabbing the hand mirror and staring into it, willing the other girl to appear.

 “Come on,” she says when no one appears, and the other girl slides into the frame, stares at Yuzu with dark eyes. Yuzu speaks before she even acknowledges the reflection. “I’m not her. You know that, right?”

The reflection only stares up at her, and for a long moment, Yuzu thinks that she really has let paranoia and baseless fear get the best of her- but then the reflection shakes her head, slowly. “No,” she says, voice low and cracked, “You are. You just don’t know it yet.”

Yuzu’s turn to shake her head. “No, no, listen. Your name is Masumi, isn’t it? You’re not from here. You’re barely even from this century. I’m Yuzu, but I’m not _Yuzu_.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Masumi says, her voice starting to gather strength, “It _doesn’t matter_. You’re Yuzu, and if you leave, something awful is going to happen.”

With a long breath, Yuzu wonders if anything she says will get through to Masumi. “No, listen to me. You can’t… You can’t keep me here.”

“I know that!” Masumi bites out with surprising anger, and Yuzu consciously has to remind herself not to drop the mirror. “But I can’t let you go. If you go, you’ll… You’ll- It’s not fair. I’m supposed to be the one to protect you. Protecting you has been my job, it’s _always_ been what I’m supposed to do!”

“And that’s why you’re still here?” Yuzu asks, “That’s why you’re haunting me?”

Masumi doesn’t answer just, averts her eyes. Silence hangs heavy between them for a moment, and Yuzu tries a different approach. “Why do you have to protect me? Why would you go so far?”

“Because I love you,” Masumi says, and Yuzu’s momentarily taken aback by the broken way she says it. A confession should never sound so resigned. “I’ve always wanted to protect you. From centuries ago to now, and I’ve always, always, _always_ -“

“Stop that,” Yuzu says with a certainty to her voice that surprises even her. “Just… Stop it. Maybe once upon a time I was them. But I’m not. Not anymore. I have my own life here, with my own friends and my own way of doing things. I know you only mean the best, but...”

Masumi stares at her with soft eyes. Yuzu wonders if she’s finally started to listen. “But it’s not good for us, Masumi. All this stuff? You’re getting too caught up in the past.”

Visions of the worlds she’s seen in her dreams come flooding back with a wave of nostalgia enough to push the air from her lungs in a sudden fit of longing, of desire for days she suddenly remembers with crystal clarity- then she shakes her head, and they’re gone. “Both of us will. I’m sorry, Masumi. In this life, I just… I can’t. I can’t think that this is going to work out.”

Masumi laughs, humorless. “Of course,” she says, “I ruined it. I wanted another chance, and I’ve ruined every single one of them.”

“No,” Yuzu says, “You didn’t. You just think you did.”

Masumi glares. “Then why does it keep going wrong?”

“It doesn’t,” Yuzu says, and Masumi stares at her with a blank expression, startled into silence.

“What?” she finally manages.

“It doesn’t go wrong. You only think it does now because you’re looking back on it all from the future. I don't know about you,” Yuzu says, and memories flash in her mind, “but in every life I’ve lived, I’ve been happy. Maybe not the whole time, but when we lived our old lives, I was happy.”

“Oh,” Masumi replies, and in the mirror she sees an angel, a thief, a witch, a love she never was quite courageous enough to try and reach.

“So I wouldn’t call any of them ruined.”

There’s a long pause between them. Yuzu lets it grow, comfortable and warm. She could let it stay, could let it grow between them for the rest of their life, for the rest of their lives-

“But still,” she says instead, and the silence dissipates slowly, vanishing slowly like flecks of ash on the wind, “do you see what I mean? All these memories, remembering all our lives… It’s going to tear us apart, Masumi. It already is.”

The look Masumi gives her breaks both their hearts in this moment, the one where they’re every life they’ve ever lived- and then it passes, and Yuzu is only a high school student, Masumi only a ghost. “We have to stop this. Next time… In the next life, we’re not going to remember any of the past, okay? We’re going to start over, and whatever happens will happen. And if we think we remember, it’s all just going to be dreams and faerie tales.”

“Okay,” Masumi says, and the agreement is like a weight off Yuzu’s chest. The eyes that meet hers in the mirror are clear and soft, and Yuzu thinks that from now on, their lives will be free.

“And you have to move on.”

There’s a fire in Masumi’s eyes, rebelling at the suggestion. “But I told you. If you leave, if you go without me, you’re going to-“

Yuzu smiles, puts a finger to her lips. “Whatever happens from now on happens, remember? Let’s take our own fates back.”

The flames taper down, Masumi nods, slow. “Yeah. Let’s take back our fates.” She pauses, then- “But… Before that. Yuzu. The last Yuzu. Yuuto made a promise to me, and I need to know if she-“

“She lived,” Yuzu replies, “for almost seventy years after the fall of the Empire. She retired to the countryside under the protection of the leaders of the rebellion and was the first to vote in the elections that they set up.”

The breath of relief Masumi lets out fogs the other side of the glass for a moment. “Thank goodness.”

“And this,” Yuzu says in a moment of impulsiveness, as one last parting gift from the person she used to be, “is from her.”

Yuzu presses a kiss to Masumi’s forehead in the mirror. When she pulls back, Masumi’s expression is caught halfway between tears and a nostalgic happiness that tugs at the corner of her mouth. “Thank you for delivering the message,” she says, then wipes at her eyes. When she looks back up, her eyes have only determination in them. “Do it.”

“To who we are right now,” Yuzu says, raising the mirror high above her head.

“To who we are,” Masumi echoes, and Yuzu swings the mirror down, lets it fall to the wood floor and shatter. There’s a swell of power, and for a moment, Yuzu fancies she can see an angel with three sets of wings gathering up the shards. He flashes her a brilliant smile. “I’ll pass on the wish,” he says, and then he’s gone, and Yuzu wonders if he was ever there to begin with.

But the mirror is gone, and Yuzu turns from the spot, heading downstairs to rejoin Rin and Yuugo in their study session. She lingers, hand on the doorframe, for just a moment. “And maybe,” she says, “to who we will be, one day.”


	7. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Girls fall in love over card games. Enough said.

_And after all our trials have passed,_

_I worry that our feelings will wane-_

_but as we race these empty streets,_

_I know nothing was in vain._

* * *

 

This is the life that they don’t know about yet.

They don’t know of a world where tag duels have taken the world by storm, where duelists with the strongest bonds can link hearts and minds in a way that’d seem to anyone who hasn’t seen it pure magic.

They don’t know of a world where they attend the same school, where they hate each other with a passion from the moment that they first lay eyes on each other. They don’t know that they’ll duel- more often than not on opposite sides of the field, and they don’t know that they will, for the second time in their seven lives, fall in love over card games.

But they will.

They’ll have their backs against a wall, trapped in a back alley they shouldn’t have wandered into in the first place by a group of duelists with dark intent across their eyes. They’ll turn to each other and sigh, resolve themselves to suffer through it as they turn on the duelists with fire in their veins.

They’ll step over each other’s toes trying to get the first turn, and Masumi will use one of Yuzu’s set cards before Yuzu get the chance to protest. Yuzu’ll tribute one of Masumi’s monsters she’d have otherwise used for a Fusion Summon in retaliation, and they’ll be halfway to each other’s throats before their opponents laugh and send them both flying back into the alley wall.

Determination will settle over them with a single-minded intensity, and for a moment- for just a moment, they’ll forget their grudges and _duel_. There will be no way for them to win, looking at it from a rational perspective- they’re only one team, and more duelists creep out from the bar adjacent to the alley even as they bring their duel into the final turn-

Every odd in the world will be against them, and in that moment, they’ll link.

They’ll link, and not in the superficial way that the new technology allows them to- they’ll link in the way that only the best, the most legendary of tag duelists have ever managed, and they’ll send their opponents reeling from their united force, one after another.

But as they’ll stand in that now-empty alley, as they’ll run through the streets, adrenaline and exhilaration rushing through their veins, they won’t be in love, not quite yet.

That will come later, after denial, after conversations, after the realization that perhaps they’d been holding grudges over things they could no longer even remember.

(But they don’t know that yet. All they know is the present, the life where they’re sitting on a piano bench and trading stories of lives they may or may not have once lived.)

“Come on,” Yuzu says out of the blue, taking Masumi’s hand and standing abruptly, “Let’s duel.”

Masumi glances out the window, where rain has started to pour sometime during their storytelling, then at their duel disks, stacked under one of the grocery bags in the kitchen. “Right now? You remember it’s raining, right?”

Yuzu rolls her eyes, then pulls Masumi into the kitchen, retrieving their decks from their disks. “We can duel tabletop, you know. Not everything has to be an action duel.”

Masumi clears the table of the groceries as Yuzu settles down, shuffling her deck. After a moment, Masumi joins her. “I went first last time, so this time you can go,” Yuzu says, and Masumi nods, considering her options.

“I activate Gem-Knight Fusion. Gem tinged with lightning. Brilliant emerald of good fortune. In a whirlpool of light combine for bring forth dazzling radiance! Fusion Summon! Appear! The one who pursues victory, Gem-Knight Topaz!”

She pulls Topaz from her extra deck and set the card down between them, feeling that the summon had been rather anticlimactic after getting so used to action duels. “I set one card and end my turn.”

“Guess I can’t let you outdo me, huh? My turn, draw!” Yuzu smiles the second she sees the card. “I summon Crystal Rose.”

And sure enough, Yuzu sets the card down on the table. After their last discussion, Masumi isn’t sure whether to groan or to blush. She settles for putting her face in her hands. “I can’t believe you still use that card.”

“Of course I do!” Yuzu says, and Masumi sighs. Because Yuzu really, wholeheartedly would use a card given to her as a fourteen year old’s awkward first attempts at flirting. And somehow, Masumi thinks, standing and leaning over the table to pull Yuzu into a soft kiss, she’s the one who’s lucky enough to have given it to her.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it's done! This was definitely an adventure in me biting off much more than I could chew and therefore being very, very late, but I had a lot of fun thinking up AUs based on the prompts. Next time though I'm putting myself on a word limit, this ended up being over 15k more than I said I was going to write... That said, because a lot of these AUs spiraled out of control, there's a lot of scenes I just had to cut to stay at a length I could reasonably accomplish. If there's an AU you want to see more of, feel free to talk to me about it on my [tumblr](http://nikkari-aoe.tumblr.com/)!


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